Eugene Onegin Part 11

Tatiana does not go to bed But quietly talks to nurse instead:

17.

'I can't sleep here, nurse, it's so airless!

Open the window, sit by me.'

'Why, Tanya, what is it?' 'I'm cheerless, Let's talk of how things used to be.'

'Tanya, what things? Once I was able To keep a store of every fable, Old tales that, true or false, I'd tell Of maidens and of spirits fell; But now my mind's grown dark and woolly: I can't recall a thing. Alas, It's all come to a sorry pa.s.s!

I am confused'... 'Nurse, tell me truly About those years, can you recall Whether you were in love at all?'

18.

'Tanya, my dear! We never even Knew what love was in my young day; Else mother-in-law would have driven Me out in no uncertain way.'

'How did you marry, then?' 'Oh, Tanya, It seemed to be G.o.d's will. My Vanya Was even younger then than me, And I was just thirteen, you see.

Two weeks a matchmaker kept coming To all my kinsfolk, finally My father blessed me. Bitterly I wept for fear of what was looming; While they untwined my braid they wept, And chanted while to church I crept.

19.

'Into an unknown family taken...

But you're not listening now, I fear.'

'Oh nurse, nurse, I'm unhappy, aching, I' m sad and sick at heart, my dear.

I'm on the verge of crying, sobbing!'

'You are not well.' 'My heart is throbbing.'

'Save us, O Lord, have mercy, pray!

What would you like, you've but to say...

Let's sprinkle you with holy water, You're all aflame'... 'I'm not unwell: I am... in love, nurse... can't you tell?'

'May the good Lord protect his daughter!'

Her ancient hand raised in the air, She crossed the girl and said a prayer.

20.

'I am in love,' again she whispered To the old woman mournfully.

'You are unwell,' her nurse persisted.

'I am in love, go, let me be.'

Meanwhile, the moon was radiating A languid light, illuminating Tatiana's graces, pale with care, Her loosened and unruly hair, Her tears and, there before her sitting, Upon a bench, the ancient dame With kerchiefed head, her feeble frame Into a bodywarmer fitting; And all beneath the tranquil night Dozed in the moon's inspiring light.

21.

And now Tatiana's heart was soaring As she looked out and watched the moon...

A sudden thought came, overpowering...

'Nurse, leave, I want to be alone.

Just let me have a pen, some paper.

The table, too. I'll lie down later.

Goodbye.' And she's alone at last.

All's quiet. For her the moon has cast Its light. Upon her elbow leaning, She writes, with Eugene on her mind, And in a letter undesigned There breathes a guileless maiden's yearning.

The letter's ready, folded, who...

Tatiana! Is it written to?

22.

I've known fair beauties unapproachable, The chaste, the cold, the wintry kind, Implacable and irreproachable, Unfathomable to the mind; I've marvelled at their modish manner, Their inborn virtue, sense of honour, And, to be frank, from them I fled, And, terror-stricken, thought I read Above their brows h.e.l.l's admonition: Abandon hope for evermore.

The joys of loving they forswore, To frighten people was their mission.

Perhaps you've seen by the Neva Fair ladies who are similar.

23.

Amidst admirers acquiescent I've seen like women in my days, Conceited, haughty and indifferent To sighs of pa.s.sion or to praise.

But what did I, amazed, discover?

That they, despite their stern behaviour, Frightening to a timid swain, Could make his love return again, At least by showing some compa.s.sion, At least, by a more tender word That they permitted to be heard, And, blinded in his naive fashion, The lover with new energy Once more pursued sweet vanity.

24.

Why blame Tatiana, then? For having Not known in her simplicity Deceit or falsehood and for craving Her chosen dream so fervently?

For loving without double-dealing, Obedient to the bent of feeling?

For being predisposed to trust, For being by the heavens blest With turbulent imagination, Intelligence, a lively will, A wayward spirit, never still And with a tender heart's vibration?

Will you then not forgive her, when She follows pa.s.sion's weathervane?

25.

Coquettes are cool in their decisions.

Tatiana loves in earnest, she Gives up herself without conditions Like a small child, defencelessly.

Of love she says not: let's postpone it To raise its value when we own it, To trap it more a.s.suredly;18 First let us puncture vanity With hope, then introduce confusion To rack the heart, and when we tire, Revive it with a jealous fire; Or else, fatigued by joy's profusion, The cunning captive day or night May from his prison-house take flight.

26.

I can foresee another matter: Saving the honour of my land, I must translate Tatiana's letter, Without a doubt you'll understand.

Russian she knew, but very badly, She did not read our journals, sadly; And in her native tongue she could With difficulty write a word.

And so in French she penned this version...

What's to be done? Once more I say A lady's love up to this day Has not expressed itself in Russian, Up to this day our proud tongue shows It's still not used to postal prose.