Part 30 (1/2)

Is he the same or more pacific?

Has he returned in novel style?

Or does he still play the eccentric?

What will he stage for us meanwhile?

As what will he appear now? Melmoth?

A cosmopolitan, a patriot, A Harold, Quaker, Pharisee14 Or else some other jeu d'esprit Or simply as a decent fellow, Like you and me and everyone?

A fas.h.i.+on that is past and done I say you should not try to follow.

We've had enough of all his show.

'You know him, then?' 'Well, yes and no.'

9.

'Then tell me why you're so begrudging, When talking of him. Might it be Because we never tire of judging The world around us ceaselessly, Because a rash and fiery spirit, To smug nonent.i.ties that near it, Seems insolent and out of place, And men of wit constrain your s.p.a.ce?

Because we're wont to talk forever Instead of acting or because Stupidity wins our applause?

Because grave men delight in trivia, And only mediocrity Will make us feel at liberty?'

10.

Blest who in youth was truly youthful, Blest who matured in proper time, Who, step by step, remaining truthful, Could weather, yearly, life's bleak clime, To curious dreams was not addicted, Nor by the social mob constricted, At twenty was a blade or swell And then at thirty married well; Ridding himself, on reaching fifty, Of debts and other bills to foot, Then calmly gaining rank, repute And money, too, by being thrifty; Of whom the world's opinion ran: NN's an estimable man.

11.

How sad, however, if we're given Our youth as something to betray, And what if youth in turn is driven To cheat on us, each hour, each day, If our most precious aspirations, Our freshest dreams, imaginations In fast succession have decayed, As leaves, in putrid autumn, fade.

It is too much to see before one Nothing but dinners in a row, Behind the seemly crowd to go, Regarding life as mere decorum, Having no common views to share, Nor pa.s.sions that one might declare.

12.

When noisy comments start to plague you, You won't endure it (you'll agree), If people of good sense should take you For someone feigning oddity, A melancholy, crazed impostor Or maybe a satanic monster Or even my own Demon.15 Thus, Onegin once more busies us.

He'd killed his friend; bereft of pleasure, He lived with neither work nor goal Till twenty-six, and still his soul Languished in unproductive leisure; He lacked employment and a wife And any purpose in his life.

13.

A restless spirit took him over, A wish to travel, anywhere (An inclination like a fever Or cross that few will gladly bear).

And so he came to the conclusion To leave the fields' and woods' seclusion, Where every day a bloodstained shade Appeared to him and would not fade, And sallied forth without direction, With one sensation in his mind; And, as with all he'd left behind, So travel, too fed his dejection.

He found his way back after all, Like Chatsky, leaving boat for ball.16

14.

But look at how the crowd is clearing, How whispers speed around the hall...

The hostess sees a lady nearing, In tow a weighty general.