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1. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter four

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Часть текста: 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,   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 ...

2. Lolita. Part Two. Chapters 9 - 16

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Часть текста: lateral child with hairy legs, while Mona, though handsome in a coarse sensual way and only a year older than my aging mistress, had obviously long ceased to be a nymphet, if she ever had been one. Eva Rosen, a displaced little person from France, was on the other hand a good example of a not strikingly beautiful child revealing to the perspicacious amateur some of the basic elements of nymphet charm, such as a perfect pubescent figure and lingering eyes and high cheekbones. Her glossy copper hair had Lolita’s silkiness, and the features of her delicate milky-white face with pink lips and silverfish eyelashes were less foxy than those of her likesthe great clan of intra-racial redheads; nor did she sport their green uniform but wore, as I remember her, a lot of black or cherry darka very smart black pullover, for instance, and high-heeled black shoes, and garnet-red fingernail polish. I spoke French to her (much to Lo’s disgust). The child’s tonalities were still admirably pure, but for school words and play words she resorted to current American and then a slight Brooklyn accent would crop up in her speech, which was amusing in a little Parisian who went to a select New England school with phoney British aspirations. Unfortunately, despite “that French kid’s uncle” being “a...

3. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter eight

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Часть текста: 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 feasts,   8  she brought her gifts,   and like a little bacchante frisked,   over the bowl sang for the guests;   and the young people of past days 12  would turbulently dangle after her;   and I was proud 'mong friends   of my volatile mistress. IV   But I...

4. Eugene Onegin. A Novel in Verse by Aleksandr Pushkin. Chapter three

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Часть текста: Pushkin Chapter three CHAPTER THREE Elle était fille; elle était amoureuse. Malfilâtre I   “Whither? Ah me, those poets!”   “Good-by, Onegin. Time for me to leave.”   “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 — 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...

5. The Song of Igor's Campaign, Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg (перевод Набокова)

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Часть текста: Igor's Campaign, Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg (перевод Набокова) The Song of Igor's Campaign,  Igor son of Svyatoslav and grandson of Oleg Translated by Vladimir Nabokov Exordium Might it not become us, brothers, to begin in the diction of yore the stern tale of the campaign of Igor, Igor son of Svyatoslav? Let us, however, begin this song in keeping with the happenings of these times and not with the contriving of Boyan. For he, vatic Boyan if he wished to make a laud for one, ranged in thought [like the nightingale] over the tree; like the gray wolf across land; like the smoky eagle up to the clouds. For as he recalled, said he, the feuds of initial times, "He set ten falcons upon a flock of swans, and the one first overtaken, sang a song first"- to Yaroslav of yore, and to brave Mstislav who slew Rededya before the Kasog troops, and to fair Roman son of Svyatoslav. To be sure, brothers, Boyan did not [really] set ten falcons upon a flock of swans: his own vatic fingers he laid on the live strings,   which then twanged out by themselves a paean to princes. So let us begin, brothers, this tale- from Vladimir of yore to nowadays Igor. who girded his mind with fortitude, and sharpened his heart with manliness; [thus] imbued with the spirit of arms, he led his brave troops against the Kuman land in the name of the Russian land. Boyan apostrophized O Boyan, nigh tingale of the times of old! If you were to trill [your praise of]   these troops,   while hopping, nightingale, over the tre e of thought; [if you were] flying in mind up to the clouds; [if] weaving paeans around these times, [you were] roving the Troyan Trail, across fields onto hills; then the song to be sung of Igor, that grandson of Oleg [, would be]: "No storm has swept falcons across wide fields;   flocks of daws flee toward the Great Don";   or you might intone thus, vatic Boyan, grandson of Veles: "Steeds...