Владимир Набоков - Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина

   she drops. “He's here! Eugene is here!
   Good God, what did he think!”
   Her heart, full of torments, retains
 4 an obscure dream of hope;
   she trembles, and she hotly glows, and waits:
   does he not come? But hears not. In the orchard
   girl servants, on the beds,
 8 were picking berries in the bushes
   and singing by decree in chorus
   (a decree based on that
   sly mouths would not in secret
12 eat the seignioral berry
   and would be occupied by singing; a device
   of rural wit!):

   Maidens, pretty maidens,
   darling girl companions,
   romp unhindered, maidens,
 4 have your fling, my dears!
   Start to sing a ditty,
   sing our private ditty,
   and allure a fellow
 8 to our choral dance.

   They sing; and carelessly
   attending to their ringing voice,
   Tatiana with impatience waits
 4 for the heart's tremor to subside in her,
   for her cheeks to cease flaming;
   but in her breasts there's the same trepidation,
   nor ceases the glow of her cheeks:
 8 yet brighter, brighter do they burn.
   Thus a poor butterfly both flashes
   and beats an iridescent wing,
   captured by a school prankster; thus
12 a small hare trembles in the winter corn
   upon suddenly seeing from afar
   the shotman in the bushes crouch.

   But finally she sighed
   and from her bench arose;
   started to go; but hardly had she turned
 4 into the avenue when straight before her,
   eyes blazing, Eugene
   stood, similar to some grim shade,
   and as one seared by fire
 8 she stopped.
   But to detail the consequences
   of this unlooked-for meeting I, dear friends,
   have not the strength today;
12 after this long discourse I need
   a little jaunt, a little rest;
   some other time I'll tell the rest.

   The less we love a woman
   the easier 'tis to be liked by her,
   and thus more surely we undo her
 4 among bewitching toils.
   Time was when cool debauch
   was lauded as the art of love,
   trumpeting everywhere about itself,
 8 taking its pleasure without loving.
   But that grand game
   is worthy of old sapajous
   of our forefathers' vaunted times;
12 the fame of Lovelaces has faded
   with the fame of red heels
   and of majestic periwigs.

   Who does not find it tedious to dissemble;
   diversely to repeat the same;
   try gravely to convince one
 4 of what all have been long convinced;
   to hear the same objections,
   annihilate the prejudices
   which never had and hasn't
 8 a little girl of thirteen years!
   Who will not grow weary of threats,
   entreaties, vows, feigned fear,
   notes running to six pages,
12 betrayals, gossiping, rings, tears,
   surveillances of aunts, of mothers,
   and the onerous friendship of husbands!

   Exactly thus my Eugene thought.
   In his first youth
   he had been victim of tempestuous errings
 4 and of unbridled passions.
   Spoiled by a habitude of life,
   with one thing for a while
   enchanted, disenchanted with another,
 8 irked slowly by desire,
   irked, too, by volatile success,
   hearkening in the hubbub and the hush
   to the eternal mutter of his soul,
12 smothering yawns with laughter:
   this was the way he killed eight years,
   having lost life's best bloom.

   With belles no longer did he fall in love,
   but dangled after them just anyhow;
   when they refused, he solaced in a twinkle;
 4 when they betrayed, was glad to rest.
   He sought them without rapture,
   while he left them without regret,
   hardly remembering their love and spite.
 8 Exactly thus does an indifferent guest
   drive up for evening whist:
   sits down; then, when the game is over,
   he drives off from the place,
12 at home falls peacefully asleep,
   and in the morning does not know himself
   where he will drive to in the evening.

   But on receiving Tanya's missive,
   Onegin was profoundly touched:
   the language of a maiden's daydreams
 4 stirred up in him a swarm of thoughts;
   and he recalled winsome Tatiana's
   pale color, mournful air;
   and in a sweet and sinless dream
 8 his soul became absorbed.
   Perhaps an ancient glow of feelings
   possessed him for a minute;
   but he did not wish to deceive
12 an innocent soul's trustfulness.
   Now we'll flit over to the garden where Tatiana
   encountered him.

   For a few seconds they were silent;
   Onegin then went up to her
   and quoth: “You wrote to me.
 4 Do not deny it. I have read
   a trustful soul's avowals,
   an innocent love's outpourings;
   your candidness appeals to me,
 8 in me it has excited
   emotions long grown silent.
   But I don't want to praise you —
   I will repay you for it
12 with an avowal likewise void of art;
   hear my confession;
   unto your judgment I submit.

   “If I by the domestic circle
   had wanted to bound life;
   if to be father, husband,
 4 a pleasant lot had ordered me;
   if with the familistic picture
   I were but for one moment captivated;
   then, doubtlessly, save you alone
 8 no other bride I'd seek.
   I'll say without madrigal spangles:
   my past ideal having found,
   I'd doubtlessly have chosen you alone
12 for mate of my sad days, in gage
   of all that's beautiful, and would have been
   happy — in so far as I could!

   “But I'm not made for bliss;
   my soul is strange to it;
   in vain are your perfections:
 4 I'm not at all worthy of them.
   Believe me (conscience is thereof the pledge),
   wedlock to us would be a torment.
   However much I loved you,
 8 having grown used, I'd cease to love at once;
   you would begin to weep; your tears
   would fail to touch my heart —
   they merely would exasperate it.
12 Judge, then, what roses
   Hymen would lay in store for us —
   and, possibly, for many days!

   “What in the world can be
   worse than a family where the poor wife frets
   over an undeserving husband
 4 and day and evening is alone;
   where the dull husband,
   knowing her worth (yet cursing fate),
   is always sullen, silent, cross,
 8 and coldly jealous?
   Thus I. And is it this you sought
   with pure flaming soul when
   with such simplicity,
12 with such intelligence, to me you wrote?
   Can it be true that such a portion
   is by stern fate assigned to you?