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А Б В Г Д Е Ж З И Й К Л М Н О П Р С Т У Ф Х Ц Ч Ш Щ Э Ю Я
0-9 A B C D E F G H I J K L M N O P Q R S T U V W X Y Z
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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 27 - 31
Входимость: 2. Размер: 46кб.
2. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 22 - 26
Входимость: 2. Размер: 57кб.
3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
Входимость: 2. Размер: 67кб.
4. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter four
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
5. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
Входимость: 1. Размер: 53кб.
6. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three
Входимость: 1. Размер: 61кб.
7. Память, говори (глава 11)
Входимость: 1. Размер: 23кб.
8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter six
Входимость: 1. Размер: 55кб.
9. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 1 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 53кб.
10. Маликова М.: "Первое стихотворение" В. Набокова. Перевод и комментарий
Входимость: 1. Размер: 81кб.
11. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 3 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 54кб.
12. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter two
Входимость: 1. Размер: 51кб.
13. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter one
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14. Forget Lolita - let's hear it for lepidoptery...
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15. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 28 - 33
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16. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 32 - 36
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17. Интервью Набокова на английском языке. Wisconsin Studies, 1967 г.
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1. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 27 - 31
Входимость: 2. Размер: 46кб.
Часть текста: 31 27 My letterbox in the entrance hall belonged to the type that allows one to glimpse something of its contents through a glassed slit. Several times already, a trick of harlequin light that fell through the glass upon an alien handwriting had twisted it into a semblance of Lolita’s script causing me almost to collapse as I leant against an adjacent urn, almost my own. Whenever that happenedwhenever her lovely, childish scrawl was horribly transformed into the dull hand of one of my few correspondentsI used to recollect, with anguished amusement, the times in my trustful, pre-dolorian past when I would be misled by a jewel-bright window opposite wherein my lurking eye, the ever alert periscope of my shameful vice, would make out from afar a half-naked nymphet stilled in the act of combing her Alice-in-Wonderland hair. There was in the fiery phantasm a perfection which made my wild delight also perfect, just because the vision was out of reach, with no possibility of attainment to spoil it by the awareness of an appended taboo; indeed, it may well be that the very attraction immaturity has for me lies not so much in the limpidity of pure young forbidden fairy child beauty as in the security of a situation where infinite perfections fill the gap between the little given and the great promisedthe great rosegray never-to-be-had. Mes fentres!   Hanging above blotched sunset and welling night, grinding my teeth, I would crowd all the demons of my desire against the railing of a throbbing balcony: it would be ready to take off in the apricot and black humid evening; did take offwhereupon the lighted image would move and Even would revert to a rib, and...
2. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 22 - 26
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Часть текста: evolving even an explanation of the “Birdsley” telephone call… But if I could dismiss Trapp, as I had dismissed my convulsions on the lawn at Champion, I could do nothing with the anguish of knowing Lolita to be so tantalizingly, so miserably unattainable and beloved on the very even of a new era, when my alembics told me she should stop being a nymphet, stop torturing me. An additional, abominable, and perfectly gratuitous worry was lovingly prepared for me in Elphinstone. Lo had been dull and silent during the last laptwo hundred mountainous miles uncontaminated by smoke-gray sleuths or zigzagging zanies. She hardly glanced at the famous, oddly shaped, splendidly flushed rock which jutted above the mountains and had been the take-off for nirvana on the part of a temperamental show girl. The town was newly built, or rebuilt, on the flat floor of a seven-thousand-foot-high valley; it would soon bore Lo, I hoped, and we would spin on to California, to the Mexican border, to mythical bays, saguaro desserts, fatamorganas. Jos Lizzarrabengoa, as you remember, planned to take his Carmen to the Etats Unis.   I conjured up a Central American tennis competition in which Dolores Haze and various Californian schoolgirl champions would dazzlingly participate. Good-will tours on that smiling level eliminate the distinction between passport and sport. Why did I hope we would be happy abroad? A change of environment is the traditional fallacy upon which doomed loves, and lungs, rely. Mrs. Hays, the brisk, briskly...
3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter seven
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Часть текста: Bluing, the heavens shine.   8  The yet transparent woods   as if with 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 ...
4. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter four
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Часть текста: four CHAPTER FOUR La morale est dans la nature des choses. Necker VII   The less we love a woman   the easier 'tis to be liked by her,   and thus more surely we undo her   4  among bewitching toils.   Time was when cool debauch   was lauded as the art of love,   trumpeting everywhere about itself,   8  taking its pleasure without loving.   But that grand game   is worthy of old sapajous   of our forefathers' vaunted times; 12  the fame of Lovelaces has faded   with the fame of red heels   and of majestic periwigs. VIII   Who does not find it tedious to dissemble;   diversely to repeat the same;   try gravely to convince one   4  of what all have been long convinced;   to hear the same objections,   annihilate the prejudices   which never had and hasn't   8  a little 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,...
5. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 18 - 22
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Часть текста: a “quiet” affair. The bride may dispense with a tiara of orange blossoms securing her finger-tip veil, nor does she carry a white orchid in a prayer book. The bride’s little daughter might have added to the ceremonies uniting H. and H. a touch of vivid vermeil; but I knew I would not dare be too tender with cornered Lolita yet, and therefore agreed it was not worth while tearing the child away from her beloved Camp Q. My soi-disant   passionate and lonely Charlotte was in everyday life matter-of-fact and gregarious. Moreover, I discovered that although she could not control her heart or her cries, she was a woman of principle. Immediately after she had become more or less my mistress (despite the stimulants, her “nervous, eager chri  a heroic chri   !  had some initial trouble, for which, however, he amply compensated her by a fantastic display of old-world endearments), good Charlotte interviewed me about my relations with God. I could have answered that on that score my mind was open; I said, insteadpaying my tribute to a pious platitudethat I believed in a cosmic spirit. Looking down at her fingernails, she also asked me had I not in my family a certain strange strain. I countered by inquiring whether she would still want to marry me if my father’s maternal grandfather had been, say, a Turk. She said it did not matter a bit; but that, if she ever found out I did not believe in Our Christian God, she would commit suicide. She said it so solemnly that it gave me the creeps. It was then I knew she was a woman of...
6. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three
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Часть текста: “I do not hold you, but where do   4  you spend your evenings?” “At the Larins'.”   “Now, that's a fine thing. Mercy, man —   and you don't find it difficult   thus every evening to kill time?”   8  “Not in the least.” “I cannot understand.   From here I see what it is like:   first — 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 ...
7. Память, говори (глава 11)
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Часть текста: пол. Винно-красные, бутылочно-зеленые и темно-синие ромбы цветных стекол беседки сообщают нечто часовенное ее решетчатым оконцам. Она осталась такой же, какой была в мою отроческую пору, – старая, крепкая деревянная постройка над папоротниковым оврагом в старой, приречной части нашего вырского парка. Осталась такой же или, может быть, чуть получшела. В той, настоящей, не хватало нескольких стекол и ветер заметал вовнутрь крошащуюся листву. Узкий мосток над яругой в самой глуши парка и беседка, встающая в середине его, будто сгущенная радуга, становились после недолгого дождика скользкими, словно натертыми темной и, пожалуй, волшебной мазью. Этимологически “pavilion” и “papilio” – близкие родственники. Мебели внутри не было никакой, лишь откидной, на ржавых петлях, столик под восточным окном, сквозь два-три опустевших или прозрачных ромба которого проглядывал между синих расплывов и пьяных краснот отблеск реки. На полу у моих ног лежал на спине мертвый слепень, рядышком с бурыми останками березовой сережки. А на уцелевших пятнах побелки снутри двери забредавшие сюда чужаки оставляли надписи вроде “Здесь были Даша, Тамара и Лена” или “Долой Австрию!”. Гроза миновала быстро. Ливень, масса рушащейся воды, под которой корчились и перекатывались деревья, вдруг сразу выродился в косые линии безмолвного золота, разбитые на короткие и длинные прочерки, выступающие из фона, образованного стихающим волнением листвы. Бездны сладостной синевы расползались между огромными облаками – груда на груде, ослепительно белые, лиловато-пепельные, лепота, пловучие легенды, гуашь и гуано, – и в линиях их различался то тайный намек на женскую грудь, то посмертная маска поэта. Теннисный корт обратился в край великих...
8. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter six
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Часть текста: maids' quarters. Restful sleep   by all is needed. My Onegin   alone has driven home to sleep. II   All has grown quiet. In the drawing room   the heavy Pustyakov   snores with his heavy better half.   4  Gvozdin, Buyanov, Petushkov,   and Flyanov (who is not quite well)   have bedded in the dining room on chairs,   with, on the floor, Monsieur Triquet   8  in underwaistcoat and old nightcap.   All the young ladies, in Tatiana's   and Olga's rooms, are wrapped in sleep.   Alone, sadly by Dian's beam 12  illumined at the window, poor Tatiana   is not asleep   and gazes out on the dark field. III   With his unlooked-for apparition,   the momentary softness of his eyes,   and odd conduct with Olga,   4  to the depth of her soul   she's penetrated. She is quite unable   to understand him. Jealous   anguish perturbs her,   8  as if a cold hand pressed   her heart; as if beneath her an abyss   yawned black and dinned....   “I shall perish,” says Tanya, 12  “but perishing from him is sweet....
9. Lolita. Part One. Chapters 1 - 8
Входимость: 1. Размер: 53кб.
Часть текста: one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita. Did she have a precursor? She did, indeed she did. In point of fact, there might have been no Lolita at all had I not loved, one summer, a certain initial girl-child. In a princedom by the sea. Oh when? About as many years before Lolita was born as my age was that summer. You can always count on a murderer for a fancy prose style. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, exhibit number one is what the seraphs, the misinformed, simple, noble-winged seraphs, envied. Look at this tangle of thorns. 2 I was born in 1910, in Paris. My father was a gentle, easy-going person, a salad of racial genes: a Swiss citizen, of mixed French and Austrian descent, with a dash of the Danube in his veins. I am going to pass around in a minute some lovely, glossy-blue picture-postcards. He owned a luxurious hotel on the Riviera. His father and two grandfathers had sold wine, jewels and silk, respectively. At thirty he married an English girl, daughter of Jerome Dunn, the alpinist, and granddaughter of two Dorset parsons, experts in obscure subjectspaleopedology and Aeolian harps, respectively. My very photogenic mother died in a freak accident (picnic, lightning) when I was three, and, save for a pocket of warmth in the darkest past, nothing of her subsists within the...
10. Маликова М.: "Первое стихотворение" В. Набокова. Перевод и комментарий
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Часть текста: себе одну беседку. Там долговязый пятнадцатилетний парень, каким я тогда был, нашел укрытие во время грозы — их было необычайно много в том июле. Моя беседка снится мне по крайней мере дважды в году. Как правило, она появляется совершенно независимо от темы сна, которой, конечно, может быть что угодно — от аббревиатуры до ящура. Она, так сказать, находится поблизости, с ненавязчивостью подписи художника. Я нахожу ее прицепившейся к краю призрачного холста, или хитро вписанной в какую-нибудь декоративную часть картины. Временами, впрочем, она висит в отдалении, чуть барочная, но в ладу с красивыми деревьями, темной елью и светлой березой, сок которых когда-то бежал в ее бревнах. Винно-красные, бутылочно-зеленые и темно-синие ромбы цветного стекла придавали решетчатым конструкциям ее створных окон вид часовни. Она точно такая, как во времена моего детства — крепкое старое деревянное строение над заросшим папоротником оврагом в старой, приречной части нашего вырского парка. Точно такая, или немного...