Пушкин Письмо Онегина Татьяне English
Друзья, я все понимаю. Не бейте меня.
***
I see it all: brought from disguise,
My doleful truth repels you dearly.
What bitter scorn I vision clearly
Depicted in your stately eyes!
What do I want? What guides my action
As I reveal to you my woe?
And what revengeful satisfaction,
Perhaps, I bring by doing so!
To meet you on my way once chancing,
In you the spark of fondness sensing,
I did not dare to trust its call:
The charming habit had not won me,
My freedom, which so weighs upon me,
To keep I wanted after all.
Another thing then intersected…
The hapless victim, Lensky fell…
That day my heart I disconnected
From every joy that there might dwell;
Estranged from all, no must obeying,
I thought: my peace and freedom make
For happiness. God, a mistake!
How wrong I was, how much I’m paying!
No, to behold you every while,
To dog your footsteps everywhere,
Your eyes’ each move, your lips’ each smile
To catch with one adoring stare,
To hear you on, to deeply sense
Of your ideal the consummation,
By you in punishing suspense
To pale and vanish … that’s elation!
But I’m deprived of that: for you
I drag around, blind luck foretasting;
One day, one hour would get me through:
Instead, in useless boredom wasting,
My counted minutes vainly flee.
Why, they already burden me.
I know: they’ll drop the final curtain;
But so my life could go its way,
Come morning time, I must be certain
That I shall see you, come the day.
I fear: my begging most remorseful
Will be to your ascetic eye
The slyness of a craft resourceful –
And I foresee your stern reply.
But if you fathomed, how intense is
The throe of longing, what a pain,
To harrow – and to call the senses
To tame the flaming yet again,
To want to fall before you kneeling,
And sobbing freely to confess,
To pour my praying, begging, feeling,
All, all I only could express.
And in the meantime to be gearing
To arm my speech and eyes with cold,
A civil chat with you to hold,
To give you looks polite and cheering.
So be it then: it is too late,
This losing fight I stopped endorsing,
The choice is made: I’m at your mercy
And I entrust me to my fate.
***
Предвижу всё: вас оскорбит
Печальной тайны объясненье.
Какое горькое презренье
Ваш гордый взгляд изобразит!
Чего хочу? с какою целью
Открою душу вам свою?
Какому злобному веселью,
Быть может, повод подаю!
Случайно вас когда-то встретя,
В вас искру нежности заметя,
Я ей поверить не посмел:
Привычке милой не дал ходу;
Свою постылую свободу
Я потерять не захотел.
Еще одно нас разлучило.
Несчастной жертвой Ленской пал.
Ото всего, что сердцу мило,
Тогда я сердце оторвал;
Чужой для всех, ничем не связан,
Я думал: вольность и покой
Замена счастью. Боже мой!
Как я ошибся, как наказан!
Нет, поминутно видеть вас,
Повсюду следовать за вами,
Улыбку уст, движенье глаз
Ловить влюбленными глазами,
Внимать вам долго, понимать
Душой всё ваше совершенство,
Пред вами в муках замирать,
Бледнеть и гаснуть. вот блаженство!
И я лишен того: для вас
Тащусь повсюду наудачу;
Мне дорог день, мне дорог час:
А я в напрасной скуке трачу
Судьбой отсчитанные дни.
И так уж тягостны они.
Я знаю: век уж мой измерен;
Но чтоб продлилась жизнь моя,
Я утром должен быть уверен,
Что с вами днем увижусь я.
Боюсь: в мольбе моей смиренной
Увидит ваш суровый взор
Затеи хитрости презренной —
И слышу гневный ваш укор.
Когда б вы знали, как ужасно
Томиться жаждою любви,
Пылать — и разумом всечасно
Смирять волнение в крови;
Желать обнять у вас колени,
И, зарыдав, у ваших ног
Излить мольбы, признанья, пени,
Всё, всё, что выразить бы мог.
А между тем притворным хладом
Вооружать и речь и взор,
Вести спокойный разговор,
Глядеть на вас веселым взглядом.
Но так и быть: я сам себе
Противиться не в силах боле;
Всё решено: я в вашей воле,
И предаюсь моей судьбе.
Перевод на английский письмо татьяны к онегину
I write this to you — what more can be said?
What more can I add to that one fact?
For now I know it is in your power
To punish me contemptuously for this act.
But you, keeping for my unhappy lot
Even one drop of sympathy
Will not entirely abandon me.
At first I wished to remain silent;
Believe me, my shame, my agony,
You never ever would have heard.
As long as hope remained preserved
That rarely, even once a week,
I’d see you in our country house,
To hear your voice, to hear you speak,
To say a few words, and then, and then
To think, and think, and think again
All day, all night, until the next meeting.
В глуши, в деревне всё вам скучно,
А мы. ничем мы не блестим,
Хоть вам и рады простодушно.
Зачем вы посетили нас?
В глуши забытого селенья
Я никогда не знала б вас,
Не знала б горького мученья.
Души неопытной волненья
Смирив со временем (как знать?),
По сердцу я нашла бы друга,
Была бы верная супруга
И добродетельная мать.
But it is said you are unsociable,
And in this backwater all is tedious to you,
While we… well here we shine at nothing,
Although we’re glad to welcome you.
Why did you come to visit us?
In this forgotten rural home
Your face I never would have known
Nor known this bitter suffering.
The fever of inexperience
In time (who can tell?) would have died down,
And I’d have found another lover,
Dear to my heart, to whom I’d be true,
And a loving wife, and virtuous mother.
Не отдала бы сердца я!
То в вышнем суждено совете.
То воля неба: я твоя;
Вся жизнь моя была залогом
Свиданья верного с тобой;
Я знаю, ты мне послан богом,
До гроба ты хранитель мой.
Ты в сновиденьях мне являлся,
Незримый, ты мне был уж мил,
Твой чудный взгляд меня томил,
В душе твой голос раздавался
Давно. нет, это был не сон!
Ты чуть вошел, я вмиг узнала,
Вся обомлела, запылала
И в мыслях молвила: вот он!
Не правда ль? я тебя слыхала:
Ты говорил со мной в тиши,
Когда я бедным помогала
Или молитвой услаждала
Тоску волнуемой души?
И в это самое мгновенье
Не ты ли, милое виденье,
В прозрачной темноте мелькнул,
Приникнул тихо к изголовью?
Не ты ль, с отрадой и любовью,
Слова надежды мне шепнул?
Another!… No, no one on this earth
Is there to whom I’d give my heart!
That is ordained by highest fate…
That is heaven’s will — that I am yours;
My life till now was but a pledge,
Of meeting with you, a forward image;
You were sent by heaven of that I’m sure,
To the grave itself you are my saviour…
In dreams you have appeared to me,
Though yet unseen, I held you dear,
Your glance and strangeness tortured me,
To my soul your voice was loud and clear
From long ago… It was not a dream!
You came, and I knew that very instant,
I was struck dumb, my heart flared up,
And in my thoughts said «He is the one!»
Is it not true? I heard you often:
In the silence did you not speak to me,
Both when I helped the poor, and when
With prayer I sought to ease and soften
The pain inside my anguished head?
And at this very moment, is it not you,
Oh sweetest, lovely vision who
In the night’s transparency flits by
And quietly nestles by the bed’s head?
And you, who with love and rapturously
Whispered a word of hope to me?
Или коварный искуситель:
Мои сомненья разреши.
Быть может, это всё пустое,
Обман неопытной души!
И суждено совсем иное.
Но так и быть! Судьбу мою
Отныне я тебе вручаю,
Перед тобою слезы лью,
Твоей защиты умоляю.
Вообрази: я здесь одна,
Никто меня не понимает,
Рассудок мой изнемогает,
И молча гибнуть я должна.
Я жду тебя: единым взором
Надежды сердца оживи,
Иль сон тяжелый перерви,
Увы, заслуженным укором!
Кончаю! Страшно перечесть.
Стыдом и страхом замираю.
Но мне порукой ваша честь,
И смело ей себя вверяю.
Who are you, my guardian angel?
Or a wily devil, a tempter fatal?
Disperse these doubts, this agony.
Perhaps all this is nothingness,
A foolish mind’s self-aberration,
And something other is fate’s decree…
So be it! Whatever my destiny,
To you I give it from this day,
Before you the tears roll down my cheek,
And your protection I beseech…
For consider: here I am alone,
No one understands what I say,
My reason tortures me every day,
And silently I am doomed to perish.
You I await: With a single glance
Revive the hope that’s in my heart,
Cut short this heavy dream I cherish,
Deserving, I know, reproach and scorn.
I finish — I tremble to read it through,
With shame and terror my heart sinks low,
But your honour is my guarantee
And to that I entrust my destiny.
У кого есть письмо Татьяны к Онегину на английском языке!?
Tatyana’s Letter to Onegin
«I write to you — no more confession
is needed, nothing’s left to tell.
I know it’s now in your discretion
with scorn to make my world a hell.
«But, if you’ve kept some faint impression
of pity for my wretched state,
you’ll never leave me to my fate.
At first I thought it out of season
to speak; believe me: of my shame
you’d not so much as know the name,
if I’d possessed the slightest reason
to hope that even once a week
I might have seen you, heard you speak
on visits to us, and in greeting
I might have said a word, and then
thought, day and night, and thought again
about one thing, till our next meeting.
But you’re not sociable, they say:
you find the country godforsaken;
though we. don’t shine in any way,
our joy in you is warmly taken.
«Why did you visit us, but why?
Lost in our backwoods habitation
I’d not have known you, therefore I
would have been spared this laceration.
In time, who knows, the agitation
of inexperience would have passed,
I would have found a friend, another,
and in the role of virtuous mother
and faithful wife I’d have been cast.
«Another. No, another never
in all the world could take my heart!
Decreed in highest court for ever.
heaven’s will — for you I’m set apart;
and my whole life has been directed
and pledged to you, and firmly planned:
I know, Godsent one, I’m protected
until the grave by your strong hand:
you’d made appearance in my dreaming;
unseen, already you were dear,
my soul had heard your voice ring clear,
stirred at your gaze, so strange, so gleaming,
long, long ago. no, that could be
no dream. You’d scarce arrived, I reckoned
to know you, swooned, and in a second
all in a blaze, I said: it’s he!
«You know, it’s true, how I attended,
drank in your words when all was still —
helping the poor, or while I mended
with balm of prayer my torn and rended
spirit that anguish had made ill.
At this midnight of my condition,
was it not you, dear apparition,
who in the dark came flashing through
and, on my bed-head gently leaning,
with love and comfort in your meaning,
spoke words of hope? But who are you:
the guardian angel of tradition,
or some vile agent of perdition
sent to seduce? Resolve my doubt.
Oh, this could all be false and vain,
a sham that trustful souls work out;
<101>
fate could be something else again.
«So let it be! for you to keep
I trust my fate to your direction,
henceforth in front of you I weep,
I weep, and pray for your protection.
Imagine it: quite on my own
I’ve no one here who comprehends me,
and now a swooning mind attends me,
dumb I must perish, and alone.
My heart awaits you: you can turn it
to life and hope with just a glance —
or else disturb my mournful trance
with censure — I’ve done all to earn it!
«I close. I dread to read this page.
for shame and fear my wits are sliding.
and yet your honour is my gage
and in it boldly I’m confiding».
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