Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина - [299]

   as if by thunder struck.

   In what a tempest of sensations

 ⁴ his heart is now immersed!

   But there resounds a sudden clink of spurs,

   and there appears Tatiana's husband,

   and here my hero,

 ⁸ at an unfortunate minute for him,

   reader, we now shall leave

   for long... forever.... After him

   sufficiently along one path

¹² we've roamed the world. Let us congratulate

   each other on attaining land. Hurrah!

   It long (is it not true?) was time.

XLIX

   Whoever, O my reader,

   you be — friend, foe — I wish to part

   with you at present as a pal.

 ⁴ Farewell. Whatever in these careless strophes

   you might have looked for as you followed me —

   tumultuous recollections,

   relief from labors,

 ⁸ live images or witticisms,

   or faults of grammar —

   God grant that in this book, for recreation,

   for dreaming, for the heart,

¹² for jousts in journals,

   you find at least a crumb.

   Upon which, let us part, farewell!

L

   You, too, farewell, my strange traveling companion,

   and you, my true ideal,

   and you, my live and constant,

 ⁴ though small, work. I have known with you

   all that a poet covets:

   obliviousness of life in the world's tempests,

   the sweet discourse of friends.

 ⁸ Rushed by have many, many days

   since young Tatiana, and with her

   Onegin, in a blurry dream

   appeared to me for the first time —

¹² and the far stretch of a free novel

   I through a magic crystal

   still did not make out clearly.

LI

   But those to whom at amicable meetings

   its first strophes I read —

   “Some are no more, others are distant,”

 ⁴ as erstwhiles Sadi said.

   Without them was Onegin's picture finished.

   And she from whom was fashioned

   the dear ideal of “Tatiana”...

 ⁸ Ah, much, much has fate snatched away!

   Blest who left life's feast early,

   not having to the bottom drained

   the goblet full of wine;

¹² who never read life's novel to the end

   and all at once could part with it

   as I with my Onegin.

THE END

NOTES TO EUGENE ONEGIN

1. Written in Bessarabia. >>

2. Dandy [Eng.], a fop. >>

3. Hat à la Bolivar. >>

4. Well-known restaurateur. >>

5. A trait of chilled sentiment worthy of Childe Harold. The ballets of Mr. Didelot are full of liveliness of fancy and extraordinary charm. One of our romantic writers found in them much more poetry than in the whole of French literature. >>

6. “Tout le monde sut qu'il mettoit du blanc, et moi qui n'en croyois rien je commençai de le croire, non seulement par l'embellissement de son teint, et pour avoir trouvé des tasses de blanc sur sa toilette, mais sur ce qu'entrant un matin dans sa chambre, je le trouvai brossant ses ongles avec une petite vergette faite exprès, ouvrage qu'il continua fi+èrement devant moi. Je jugeai qu'un homme qui passe deux heures tous les matins à brosser ses ongles peut bien passer quelques instans à remplir de blanc les creux de sa peau.”

(Les Confessions de Jean-Jacques Rousseau.)

Grimm was ahead of his age: nowadays people all over enlightened Europe clean their nails with a special brush. >>

7. The whole of this ironical stanza is nothing but a subtle compliment to our fair compatriots. Thus Boileau, under the guise of disapprobation, eulogizes Louis XIV. Our ladies combine enlightenment with amiability, and strict purity of morals with the Oriental charm that so captivated Mme de Staël

(Dix ans d'exil). >>

8. Readers remember the charming description of a Petersburg night in Gnedich's idyl:

   Here's night; but the golden stripes of the clouds do not darken.

   Though starless and moonless, the whole horizon lights up.

   Far out in the [Baltic] gulf one can see the silvery sails

 ⁴ Of hardly discernible ships that seem in the blue sky to float.

   With a gloomless radiance the night sky is radiant,

   And the crimson of sunset blends with the Orient's gold,

   As if Aurora led forth in the wake of evening

 ⁸ Her rosy morn. This is the aureate season

   When the power of night is usurped by the summer days;

   When the foreigner's gaze is bewitched by the Northern sky

   Where shade and ambrosial light form a magical union

¹² Which never adorns the sky of the South:

   A limpidity similar to the charms of a Northern maiden

   Whose light-blue eyes and rose-colored cheeks

   Are but slightly shaded by auburn curls undulating.

¹⁶ Now above the Neva and sumptuous Petropolis

   You see eves without gloom and brief nights without shadow.

   Now as soon as Philomel ends her midnight songs

   She starts the songs that welcome the rise of the day.

²⁰ But 'tis late; a coolness wafts on the Nevan tundras;

   The dew has descended;...

   Here's midnight; after sounding all evening with thousands of oars,

   The Neva does not stir; town guests have dispersed;

²⁴ Not a voice on the shore, not a ripple astream, all is still.

   Alone now and then o'er the water a rumble runs from the bridges,

   Or a long-drawn cry flies forth from a distant suburb

   Where in the night one sentinel calls to another.

²⁸ All sleeps.... >>

9. Not in dream the ardent poet

   the benignant goddess sees

   as he spends a sleepless night