Владимир Набоков - Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина
XXX
Bard of The Feasts and languorous sadness,22if you were still with me,
I would have troubled you,
4 dear fellow, with an indiscreet request:
that into magic melodies
you would transpose
a passionate maiden's foreign words.
8 Where are you? Come! My rights
I with a bow transfer to you....
But in the midst of melancholy rocks,
his heart disused from praises,
12 alone, under the Finnish sky
he wanders, and his soul
hears not my worry.
XXXI
religiously I keep it;
I read it with a secret heartache
4 and cannot get my fill of reading it.
Who taught her both this tenderness
and amiable carelessness of words?
Who taught her all that touching tosh,
8 mad conversation of the heart
both fascinating and injurious?
I cannot understand. But here's
an incomplete, feeble translation,
12 the pallid copy of a vivid picture,
or Freischütz executed by the fingers
of timid female learners.
Tatiana's Letter To Onegin
What else is there that I could say?
'Tis now, I know, within your will
4 to punish me with scorn.
But you, preserving for my hapless lot
at least one drop of pity,
you'll not abandon me.
8 At first, I wanted to be silent;
believe me: of my shame
you never would have known
if I had had the hope but seldom,
12 but once a week,
to see you at our country place,
only to hear you speak,
to say a word to you, and then
16 to think and think about one thing,
both day and night, till a new meeting.
But, they say, you're unsociable;
in backwoods, in the country, all bores you,
20 while we... in no way do we shine,
though simpleheartedly we welcome you.
Why did you visit us?
In the backwoods of a forgotten village,
24 I would have never known you
nor have known this bitter torment.
The turmoil of an inexperienced soul
having subdued with time (who knows?),
28 I would have found a friend after my heart,
have been a faithful wife
and a virtuous mother.
Another!... No, to nobody on earth
32 would I have given my heart away!
That has been destined in a higher council,
that is the will of heaven: I am thine;
my entire life has been the gage
36 of a sure tryst with you;
I know that you are sent to me by God,
you are my guardian to the tomb....
You had appeared to me in dreams,
40 unseen, you were already dear to me,
your wondrous glance would trouble me,
your voice resounded in my soul
long since.... No, it was not a dream!
44 Scarce had you entered, instantly I knew you,
I felt all faint, I felt aflame,
and in my thoughts I uttered: It is he!
Is it not true that it was you I heard:
48 you in the stillness spoke to me
when I would help the poor
or assuage with a prayer
the anguish of my agitated soul?
52 And even at this very moment
was it not you, dear vision,
that slipped through the transparent darkness
and gently bent close to my bed head?
56 Was it not you that with delight and love
did whisper words of hope to me?
Who are you? My guardian angel
or a perfidious tempter?
60 Resolve my doubts.
Perhaps, 'tis nonsense all,
an inexperienced soul's delusion, and there's destined
something quite different....
64 But so be it! My fate
henceforth I place into your hands,
before you I shed tears,
for your defense I plead.
68 Imagine: I am here alone,
none understands me,
my reason sinks,
and, silent, I must perish.
72 I wait for you: revive
my heart's hopes with a single look
or interrupt the heavy dream
with a rebuke — alas, deserved!
76 I close. I dread to read this over.
I'm faint with shame and fear... But to me
your honor is a pledge,
and boldly I entrust myself to it.
XXXII
The letter trembles in her hand;
the rosy wafer dries
4 upon her fevered tongue.
Her poor head shoulderward has sunk;
her light chemise
has slid down from her charming shoulder.
8 But now the moonbeam's radiance
already fades. Anon the valley
grows through the vapor clear. Anon the stream
starts silvering. Anon the herdsman's horn
12 wakes up the villager.
Here's morning; all have risen long ago:
to my Tatiana it is all the same.
XXXIII
she sits with lowered head
and on the letter does not
4 impress her graven seal.
But, softly opening the door,
now gray Filatievna brings her
tea on a tray.
8 “'Tis time, my child, get up;
why, pretty one,
you're ready! Oh, my early birdie!
I was so anxious yesternight —
12 but glory be to God, you're well!
No trace at all of the night's fret!
Your face is like a poppy flower.”
XXXIV
“Willingly, darling, order me.”
“Now do not think... Really... Suspicion...
4 But you see... Oh, do not refuse!”
“My dear, to you God is my pledge.”
“Well, send your grandson quietly
with this note to O… to that… to
8 the neighbor. And let him be told
that he ought not to say a word,
that he ought not to name me.”
“To whom, my precious?
12 I'm getting muddled nowadays.
Neighbors around are many; it's beyond me
even to count them over.”
XXXV
“Sweetheart, I am already old,
I'm old; the mind gets blunted, Tanya;
4 but time was, I used to be sharp:
time was, one word of master's wish.”
“Oh, nurse, nurse, is this relevant?
What matters your intelligence to me?
8 You see, it is about a letter, to
Onegin.” “Well, this now makes sense.
Do not be cross with me, my soul;
I am, you know, not comprehensible.
12 But why have you turned pale again?”
“Never mind, nurse, 'tis really nothing.
Send, then, your grandson.”
XXXVI
Another came up; nothing yet.
Pale as a shade, since morning dressed,
4 Tatiana waits: when will the answer come?
Olga's adorer drove up. “Tell me,
where's your companion?” was to him
the question of the lady of the house;
8 “He seems to have forgotten us entirely.”
Tatiana, flushing, quivered.
“He promised he would be today,”
Lenski replied to the old dame,
12 “but evidently the mail has detained him.”
Tatiana dropped her eyes
as if she'd heard a harsh rebuke.
XXXVII
the evening samovar
hissed as it warmed the Chinese teapot;
4 light vapor undulated under it.
Poured out by Olga's hand,
into the cups, in a dark stream,
the fragrant tea already
8 ran, and a footboy served the cream;
Tatiana stood before the window;
breathing on the cold panes,
lost in thought, the dear soul
12 wrote with her charming finger
on the bemisted glass
the cherished monogram: an O and E.
XXXVIII
and full of tears was her languorous gaze.
Suddenly, hoof thuds! Her blood froze.
4 Now nearer! Coming fast... and in the yard
is Eugene! “Ach!” — and lighter than a shade
Tatiana skips into another hallway,
from porch outdoors, and straight into the garden;
8 she flies, flies — dares not
glance backward; in a moment has traversed
the platbands, little bridges, lawn,
the avenue to the lake, the bosquet;
12 she breaks the lilac bushes as she flies
across the flower plots to the brook,
and, panting, on a bench
XXXIX
