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1. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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2. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five
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3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three
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4. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Wisconsin Studies, 1967 г.
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5. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter four
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6. Федотов О.И.: Между Моцартом и Сальери (о поэтическом даре Набокова). 1.7. Пасха. Время гибели и воскресения
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7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter eight
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1. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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Часть текста: down are greening.   The bee flies from her waxen cell   after the tribute of the field. 12  The dales grow dry and varicolored.   The herds are noisy, and the nightingale   has sung already in the hush of nights. II   How sad your apparition is to me,   spring, spring, season of love!   What a dark stir there is   4  in my soul, in my blood!   With what oppressive tenderness   I revel in the whiff   of spring fanning my face   8  in the lap of the rural stillness!   Or is enjoyment strange to me,   and all that gladdens, animates,   all that exults and gleams, 12  casts spleen and languishment   upon a soul long dead   and all looks dark to it? III   Or gladdened not by the return   of leaves that perished in the autumn,   a bitter loss we recollect,   4  harking to the new murmur of the woods;   or with reanimated nature we   compare in troubled thought   the withering of our years,   8  for which there is no renovation?   Perhaps there comes into our thoughts,   midst a poetical reverie,   some other ancient spring, 12  which sets our heart aquiver   with the dream of a distant clime,   a marvelous night, a moon.... IV   Now is the time: good lazybones,   epicurean sages; you,   equanimous fortunates;   4  you, fledglings of the Lyóvshin 41 school;   you, country Priams;   and sentimental ladies, you;   spring calls you to the country,   8  season of warmth, of flowers, of labors,   of inspired rambles,   and of seductive nights.   Friends! to the fields, quick, quick; 12  in heavy loaden chariots;   with your own...
2. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter five
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Часть текста: brilliant carpeting.   All's bright, all's white around. II   Winter! The peasant, celebrating,   in a flat sledge inaugurates the track;   his naggy, having sensed the snow,   4  shambles at something like a trot.   Plowing up fluffy furrows,   a bold kibitka flies:   the driver sits upon his box   8  in sheepskin coat, red-sashed.   Here runs about a household lad,   upon a hand sled having seated “blackie,”   having transformed himself into the steed; 12  the scamp already has frozen a finger.   He finds it both painful and funny — while   his mother, from the window, threatens him... III   But, maybe, pictures of this kind   will not attract you;   all this is lowly nature;   4  there is not much refinement here.   Warmed by the god of inspiration,   another poet in luxurious language   for us has painted the first snow   8  and all the shades of winter's delectations. 27   He'll captivate you, I am sure of it,   when he depicts in flaming verses   secret promenades in...
3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three
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Часть текста: — listen, am I right? —   a simple Russian family, 12  a great solicitude for guests,   jam, never-ending talk   of rain, of flax, of cattle yard.” II   “So far I do not see what's bad about it.”   “Ah, but the boredom — that is bad, my friend.”   “Your fashionable world I hate;   4  dearer to me is the domestic circle   in which I can…” “Again an eclogue!   Ah, that will do, old boy, for goodness' sake.   Well, so you're off; I'm very sorry.   8  Oh, Lenski, listen — is there any way   for me to see this Phyllis,   subject of thoughts, and pen,   and tears, and rhymes, et cetera? 12  Present me.” “You are joking.” “No.”   “I'd gladly.” “When?” “Now, if you like.   They will be eager to receive us.” III   “Let's go.” And off the two friends drove;   they have arrived; on them are lavished   the sometimes onerous attentions   4  of hospitable ancientry.   The ritual of the treat is known:   in little dishes jams are brought,   on an oilcloth'd small table there is set   8  a jug of lingonberry water.   . . . . . . . . . ...
4. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Wisconsin Studies, 1967 г.
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Часть текста: [1967] This interview (published in Wisconsin Studies in Contemporary Literature, vol. VIII, no. 2, spring 1967) was conducted on September 25, 27, 28, 29, 1966, at Montreux, Switzerland. Mr. Nabokov and his wife have for the last six years lived in an opulent hotel built in 1835, which still retains its nineteenth-century atmosphere. Their suite of rooms is on the sixth floor, overlooking Lake Geneva, and the sounds of the lake are audible through the open doors of their small balcony. Since Mr. Nabokov does not like to talk off the cuff (or "Off the Nabocuff," as he said) no tape recorder was used. Mr. Nabokov ei! ther wrote out his answers to the questions or dictated them to the interviewer; in some instances, notes from the conversation were later recast as formal questions-and-answers. The interviewer was Nabokov's student at Cornell University in 1954, and the references are to Literature 311-312 (MWF, 12), a course on the Masterpieces of European Fiction (Jane Austen, Gogol, Dickens, Flaubert, Tolstoy, Stevenson, Kafka, Joyce, and Proust). Its enrollment had reached four hundred by the time of Nabokov's resignation in 1959. The footnotes to the interview, except where indicated, are provided by the interviewer, Alfred Appel, Jr. For years bibliographers and literary journalists didn't know whether to group you under "Russian" or "American. "Now that you're living in Switzerland there seems to be complete agreement that...
5. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter four
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Часть текста: girl of thirteen years!   Who will not grow weary of threats,   entreaties, vows, feigned fear,   notes running to six pages, 12  betrayals, gossiping, rings, tears,   surveillances of aunts, of mothers,   and the onerous friendship of husbands! IX   Exactly thus my Eugene thought.   In his first youth   he had been victim of tempestuous errings   4  and of unbridled passions.   Spoiled by a habitude of life,   with one thing for a while   enchanted, disenchanted with another,   8  irked slowly by desire,   irked, too, by volatile success,   hearkening in the hubbub and the hush   to the eternal mutter of his soul, 12  smothering yawns with laughter:   this was the way he killed eight years,   having lost life's best bloom. X   With belles no longer did he fall in love,   but dangled after them just anyhow;   when they refused, he solaced in a twinkle;   4  when they betrayed, was glad to rest.   He sought them without rapture,   while he left them without regret,   hardly remembering their love and spite.   8  Exactly thus does an indifferent guest   drive up for evening whist:   sits down; then, when the game is over,   he drives off from the place, 12  at home falls peacefully asleep,   and in the morning does not know himself   where he will drive to in the evening. XI   But on receiving Tanya's missive,   Onegin was profoundly touched:   the language of a maiden's daydreams   4  stirred up in him a swarm of thoughts;   and he recalled winsome Tatiana's   pale color, mournful air;   and in a sweet and sinless dream   8  his soul became absorbed.   Perhaps an ancient glow of feelings   possessed him for a minute;   but he did...
6. Федотов О.И.: Между Моцартом и Сальери (о поэтическом даре Набокова). 1.7. Пасха. Время гибели и воскресения
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Часть текста: среди католиков и православных. В католическом мире безусловный приоритет отдаётся Рождеству, в православном — Пасхе. Как отмечал Николай Гоголь, «в русском человеке есть особенное участие к празднику светлого воскресенья. <...> День этот есть тот святой день, в который празднует святое, небесное свое братство все человечество до единого, не исключив из него ни одного человека» (372, 373) 84 . Автор «Выбранных мест», однако, готов признать, что русский человек проявляет это участие лишь ностальгически, «если ему случится жить в чужой земле», досадуя на то, что «в других странах день этот почти не отличен от других дней — те же всегдашние занятия, та же вседневная жизнь, то же будничное выражение на лицах» (372). Наивную веру предков, считает он, исказило тлетворное влияние Запада, проявившееся в гордости «чистотой своей» и «умом своим» (374—377). И всё же мечта о том, что «праздник воскресения Христова воспразднуется» как должно, и «прежде у нас, чем у других», по мнению писателя, продолжает жить в русском...
7. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter eight
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Часть текста: Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin Chapter eight CHAPTER EIGHT Fare thee well, and if for ever, Still for ever, fare thee well. Byron I   In those days when in the Lyceum's gardens   I bloomed serenely,   would eagerly read Apuleius,   4  did not read Cicero;   in those days, in mysterious valleys,   in springtime, to the calls of swans,   near waters shining in the stillness,   8  the Muse began to visit me.   My student cell was all at once   radiant with light: in it the Muse   opened a banquet of young fancies, 12  sang childish gaieties,   and glory of our ancientry,   and the heart's tremulous dreams. II   And with a smile the world received her;   the first success provided us with wings;   the aged Derzhavin noticed us — and blessed us   4  as he descended to the grave.   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   8  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 12  . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .   . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . III   And I, setting myself for law   only the arbitrary will of passions,   sharing emotions with the crowd,   4  I led my frisky Muse into the hubbub   of feasts and turbulent discussions —   the terror of midnight patrols;   and to them, in mad...