And my Tatiana by degrees
begins to understand
more clearly now — thank God —
4 him for whom by imperious fate
she is sentenced to sigh.
A sad and dangerous eccentric,
creature of hell or heaven,
8 this angel, this proud fiend, what, then, is he?
Can it be, he's an imitation,
an insignificant phantasm, or else
a Muscovite in Harold's mantle,
12 a glossary of alien vagaries,
a complete lexicon of words in vogue?...
Might he not be, in fact, a parody?
XXV
Can she have solved the riddle?
Can “the word” have been found?
The hours run; she has forgotten
4 that she is long due home —
where two neighbors have got together,
and where the talk is about her.
“What should one do? Tatiana is no infant,”
8 quoth the old lady with a groan.
“Why, Olinka is younger.... It is time,
yea, yea, the maiden were established;
but then — what can I do with her?
12 She turns down everybody with the same
curt ‘I'll not marry,’ and keeps brooding,
and wanders in the woods alone.”
XXVI
“Might she not be in love?” “With whom, then?
Buyánov offered: was rejected.
Same thing with Ivan Petushkóv.
4 There guested with us a hussar, Pïhtín;
oh my, how sweet he was on Tanya,
how he bestirred himself, the coax!
Thought I: perchance, she will accept;
8 far from it! And again the deal was off.”
“Why, my dear lady, what's the hindrance?
To Moscow, to the mart of brides!
One hears, the vacant places there are many.”
12 “Och, my good sir! My income's scanty.”
“Sufficient for a single winter;
if not, just borrow — say, from me.”
XXVII
Much did the old dame like
the sensible and sound advice;
she checked accounts — and there and then decided
4 in winter to set out for Moscow;
and Tanya hears this news....
Unto the judgment
of the exacting beau monde to present
8 the clear traits of provincial
simplicity, and antiquated finery,
and antiquated turns of speech;
the mocking glances
12 of Moscow fops and Circes to attract....
O terror! No, better and safer,
back in the woods for her to stay.
XXVIII
With the first rays arising
she hastens now into the fields
and, with soft-melting eyes
4 surveying them, she says:
“Farewell, pacific dales,
and you, familiar hilltops,
and you, familiar woods!
8 Farewell, celestial beauty,
farewell, glad nature!
I am exchanging a dear quiet world
for the hum of resplendent vanities!...
12 And you, my freedom, farewell, too!
Whither, wherefore, do I bear onward?
What does my fate hold out for me?”
XXIX
Her walks last longer.
At present, here a hillock, there a brook,
cannot help stopping
4 Tatiana with their charm.
She, as with ancient friends,
with her groves, meadows,
still hastens to converse.
8 But the fleet summer flies.
The golden autumn has arrived.
Nature, tremulous, pale,
is like a victim richly decked....
12 Now, driving clouds along, the North
has blown, has howled, and now herself
Winter the sorceress comes.
XXX
She came, scattered herself; in flocks
hung on the limbs of oaks;
in wavy carpets lay
4 amid the fields, about the hills;
the banks with the immobile river
made level with a puffy pall.
Frost gleamed. And we are gladdened
8 by Mother Winter's pranks.
By them not gladdened is but Tanya's heart:
she does not go to meet the winter,
inhale the frostdust,
12 and with the first snow from the bathhouse roof
wash face, shoulders, and breast.
Tatiana dreads the winter way.
XXXI
The day of leaving is long overdue;
the last term now goes by. Inspected,
relined, made solid is the sledded coach
4 that to oblivion had been cast.
The usual train of three kibitkas
carries the household chattels:
pans, chairs, trunks, jams in jars,
8 mattresses, feather beds,
cages with roosters, pots,
basins, et cetera —
well, plenty of all kinds of goods.
12 And now, among the servants in the log hut,
a hubbub rises, farewell weeping:
into the courtyard eighteen nags are led.