He settled in that chamber where the rural
old-timer had for forty years or so
squabbled with his housekeeper,
4 looked through the window, and squashed flies.
It all was plain: a floor of oak, two cupboards,
a table, a divan of down,
and not an ink speck anywhere. Onegin
8 opened the cupboards; found in one
a notebook of expenses and in the other
a whole array of fruit liqueurs,
pitchers of eau-de-pomme,12 and the calendar for eighteen-eight:
having a lot to do, the old man never
looked into any other books.
IV
Alone midst his possessions,
merely to while away the time,
at first conceived the plan our Eugene
4 of instituting a new system.
In his backwoods a solitary sage,
the ancient corvée's yoke
by the light quitrent he replaced;
8 the muzhik blessed fate,
while in his corner went into a huff,
therein perceiving dreadful harm,
his thrifty neighbor.
12 Another slyly smiled,
and all concluded with one voice that he
was a most dangerous eccentric.
V
At first they all would call on him,
but since to the back porch
habitually a Don stallion
4 for him was brought
as soon as one made out along the highway
the sound of their domestic runabouts —
outraged by such behavior,
8 they all ceased to be friends with him.
“Our neighbor is a boor; acts like a crackbrain;
he's a Freemason; he
drinks only red wine, by the tumbler;
12 he won't go up to kiss a lady's hand;
'tis all ‘yes,’ ‘no’ — he'll not say ‘yes, sir,’
or ‘no, sir.’ ” This was the general voice.
VI
At that same time a new landowner
had driven down to his estate
and in the neighborhood was giving cause
4 for just as strict a scrutiny.
By name Vladimir Lenski,
with a soul really Göttingenian,
a handsome chap, in the full bloom of years,
8 Kant's votary, and a poet.
From misty Germany
he'd brought the fruits of learning:
liberty-loving dreams, a spirit
12 impetuous and rather queer,
a speech always enthusiastic,
and shoulder-length black curls.
VII
From the world's cold depravity
not having yet had time to wither,
his soul was warmed by a friend's greeting,
4 by the caress of maidens.
He was in matters of the heart
a charming dunce. Hope nursed him,
and the globe's new glitter and noise
8 still captivated his young mind.
With a sweet fancy he amused
his heart's incertitudes.
The purpose of our life to him
12 was an enticing riddle;
he racked his brains
over it and suspected marvels.
VIII
He believed that a kindred soul
to him must be united;
that, cheerlessly pining away,
4 she daily kept awaiting him;
he believed that his friends were ready to accept
chains for his honor
and that their hands would falter not in smashing
8 the vessel of his slanderer;
that there were some chosen by fate
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
12 . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
IX
Indignation, compassion,
pure love of Good,
and fame's delicious torment
4 early had stirred his blood.
He wandered with a lyre on earth.
Under the sky of Schiller and of Goethe,
with their poetic fire
8 his soul had kindled;
and the exalted Muses of the art
he, happy one, did not disgrace:
he proudly in his songs retained
12 always exalted sentiments,
the surgings of a virgin fancy, and the charm
of grave simplicity.