*

CHAPTER FOUR

But our northern summer,
Caricature of southern winters,
It will flash and not: this is known,
Although we don’t want to admit it.
The sky was already breathing in autumn,
The sun shone less often,
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she stripped herself,
Fog lay over the fields,
Noisy caravan of geese
Stretched to the south: approaching
Quite a boring time;
It was already November outside the yard.

The dawn rises in the cold darkness;
In the fields the noise of work fell silent;
With his hungry wolf, a wolf comes out onto the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and the traveler is cautious
Rushes up the mountain at full speed;
At dawn the shepherd
He no longer drives the cows out of the barn,
And at midday in a circle
His horn does not call them;
A maiden singing in a hut
Spins, and, friend of winter nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.

And now the frost is crackling
And they shine silver among the fields...
(The reader is already waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take it quickly!)
Tidier than fashionable parquet
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people
Skates cut the ice noisily;
A heavy goose on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow is flickering and curling,
Stars falling on the shore.

CHAPTER FIVE

It's autumn weather this year
I stood in the yard for a long time,
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting,
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw through the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white all around.

Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood it renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow,
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window...

CHAPTER SEVEN

Driven by spring rays,
There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped through muddy streams
To the flooded meadows.
Nature's clear smile
Through a dream he greets the morning of the year;
The skies are shining blue.
Still transparent, the forests seem to turn green with fluff.
A bee for a field tribute flies from a wax cell.
The valleys are dry and colorful;
The herds rustle and the nightingale
Already singing in the silence of the night.

How sad your appearance makes me,
Spring, spring! it's time for love!
What languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood!
With what heavy tenderness
I enjoy the breeze
Spring blowing in my face
In the lap of rural silence!
Or is pleasure alien to me,
And everything that pleases lives,
Everything that rejoices and shines,
Causes boredom and languor
My soul has been dead for a long time,
And everything seems dark to her?

Or, not happy about the return
Dead leaves in autumn,
We remember the bitter loss
Listening to the new noise of the forests;
Or with nature alive
We bring together the confused thought
We are the fading of our years,
Which cannot be reborn?
Perhaps it comes to our minds
In the midst of a poetic dream
Another, old spring
And it makes our hearts tremble
Dream of the far side
About a wonderful night, about the moon...

Excerpts from "Eugene Onegin" for video recording - your choice

Detailed description of the project - .

CHAPTER FIRST

1 reading fragment:

I
“My uncle has the most honest rules,
When I seriously fell ill,
He forced himself to respect
And I couldn't think of anything better.
His example to others is science;
But, my God, what a bore
To sit with the patient day and night,
Without leaving a single step!
What low deceit
To amuse the half-dead,
Adjust his pillows
It's sad to bring medicine,
Sigh and think to yourself:
When will the devil take you!”

II
So thought the young rake,
Flying in the dust on postage,
By the Almighty will of Zeus
Heir to all his relatives.
Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan!
With the hero of my novel
Without preamble, right now
Let me introduce you:
Onegin, my good friend,
Born on the banks of the Neva,
Where might you have been born?
Or shone, my reader;
I once walked there too:
But the north is bad for me.

III
Having served excellently and nobly,
His father lived in debt
Gave three balls annually
And finally squandered it.
Eugene's fate kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then Monsieur replaced her.
The child was harsh, but sweet.
Monsieur l'Abbe, poor Frenchman,
So that the child does not get tired,
I taught him everything jokingly,
I didn’t bother you with strict morals,
Lightly scolded for pranks
And in Summer garden took me for a walk.

IV
When will the rebellious youth
The time has come for Evgeniy
It's time for hope and tender sadness,
Monsieur was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin free;
Haircut in the latest fashion,
How the dandy Londoner is dressed -
And finally saw the light.
He's completely French
He could express himself and wrote;
I danced the mazurka easily
And he bowed casually;
What do you want more? The light has decided
That he is smart and very nice.

Reading fragment 2:

Now we have something wrong in the subject:
We better hurry to the ball,
Where to headlong in a Yamsk carriage
My Onegin has already galloped.
In front of the faded houses
Along the sleepy street in rows
Double carriage lights
Cheerful shed light
And they bring rainbows to the snow;
Dotted with bowls all around,
The magnificent house glitters;
Shadows walk across the solid windows,
Profiles of heads flash
And ladies and fashionable weirdos.

Here our hero drove up to the entryway;
He passes the doorman with an arrow
He flew up the marble steps,
I straightened my hair with my hand,
Has entered. The hall is full of people;
The music is already tired of thundering;
The crowd is busy with the mazurka;
There is noise and crowding all around;
The cavalry guard's spurs are jingling;
The legs of lovely ladies are flying;
In their captivating footsteps
Fiery eyes fly
And drowned out by the roar of violins
Jealous whispers of fashionable wives.

On days of fun and desires
I was crazy about balls:
Or rather, there is no room for confessions
And for delivering a letter.
O you, honorable spouses!
I will offer you my services;
Please notice my speech:
I want to warn you.
You, mamas, are also stricter
Follow your daughters:
Hold your lorgnette straight!
Not that... not that, God forbid!
That's why I'm writing this
That I haven’t sinned for a long time.

CHAPTER TWO

3 reading fragment

Her sister's name was Tatyana...
For the first time with such a name
Tender pages of the novel
We willfully sanctify.
So what? it is pleasant, sonorous;
But with him, I know, it’s inseparable
Memories of antiquity
Or girlish! We all should
Frankly: there is very little taste
In us and in our names
(We're not talking about poetry);
Enlightenment is not suitable for us,
And we got it from him
Pretense, nothing more.

So, she was called Tatyana.
Not your sister's beauty,
Nor the freshness of her ruddy
She wouldn't attract anyone's attention.
Dick, sad, silent,
Like a forest deer is timid,
She is in her own family
The girl seemed like a stranger.
She didn't know how to caress
To your father, nor to your mother;
Child herself, in a crowd of children
I didn’t want to play or jump
And often alone all day
She sat silently by the window.

Thoughtfulness, her friend
From the most lullabies of days,
The flow of rural leisure
Decorated her with dreams.
Her pampered fingers
They didn't know needles; leaning on the embroidery frame,
She has a silk pattern
Didn't bring the canvas to life.
A sign of the desire to rule,
With an obedient doll child
Prepared in jest
To decency - the law of light,
And it’s important to repeat to her
Lessons from your mother.

But dolls even in these years
Tatyana didn’t take it in her hands;
About city news, about fashion
I didn’t have any conversations with her.
And there were children's pranks
Alien to her: scary stories
In winter in the dark of nights
They captivated her heart more.
When did the nanny collect
For Olga on a wide meadow
All her little friends,
She didn't play with burners,
She was bored and the ringing laughter,
And the noise of their windy pleasures.

CHAPTER THREE

4 reading fragment

Tatiana, dear Tatiana!
With you now I shed tears;
You're in the hands of a fashionable tyrant
I've already given up my fate.
You will die, dear; but first
You are in blinding hope
You call for dark bliss,
You will know the bliss of life
You drink the magical poison of desires,
Dreams haunt you:
Everywhere you imagine
Happy Date Shelters;
Everywhere, everywhere in front of you
Your tempter is fatal.

The melancholy of love drives Tatiana away,
And in the garden is coming she's sad
And suddenly the eyes become motionless,
And she’s too lazy to move on.
The chest and cheeks rose
Covered in instant flames,
The breath froze in my mouth,
And there is noise in the ears, and a sparkle in the eyes...
Night will come; the moon goes around
Watch the distant vault of heaven,
And the nightingale in the darkness of the trees
Sonorous tunes turn you on.
Tatyana doesn't sleep in the dark
And quietly says to the nanny:

“I can’t sleep, nanny: it’s so stuffy here!
Open the window and sit with me.”
- What, Tanya, what’s wrong with you? - "I'm bored,
Let's talk about antiquity."
- About what, Tanya? I used to
I kept quite a bit in my memory
Ancient tales, fables
About evil spirits and maidens;
And now everything is dark to me, Tanya:
What I knew, I forgot. Yes,
A bad turn has come!
It's crazy... - “Tell me, nanny,
About your old years:
Were you in love then?

CHAPTER FOUR

5 reading fragment

Dawn rises in the cold darkness;
In the fields the noise of work fell silent;
With his hungry wolf
A wolf comes out onto the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and the traveler is cautious
Rushes up the mountain at full speed;
At dawn the shepherd
He no longer drives the cows out of the barn,
And at midday in a circle
His horn does not call them;
A maiden singing in a hut
Spins, and, friend of winter nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.

And now the frost is crackling
And they shine silver among the fields...
(The reader is already waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take it quickly!)
Tidier than fashionable parquet
The river shines, covered in ice.
Boys are a joyful people (24)
Skates cut the ice noisily;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having decided to sail across the bosom of the waters,
Steps carefully onto the ice,
Slips and falls; funny
The first snow flashes and curls,
Stars falling on the shore.

What to do in the wilderness at this time?
Walk? The village at that time
Involuntarily bothers the eye
Monotonous nakedness.
Ride on horseback in the harsh steppe?
But a horse with a blunted horseshoe
Unfaithful catching the ice,
Just wait for it to fall.
Sit under a desert roof,
Read: here is Pradt, here is W. Scott.
Do not want? - check the consumption
Be angry or drink, and the evening will be long
Somehow it will pass, and tomorrow too,
And you will have a wonderful winter.

CHAPTER FIVE

6 reading fragment

That year the weather was autumn
I stood in the yard for a long time,
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow only fell in January
On the third night. Waking up early
Tatiana saw through the window
In the morning the yard turned white,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glass,
Trees in winter silver,
Forty merry ones in the yard
And softly carpeted mountains
Winter is a brilliant carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white all around.

Winter!.. The peasant, triumphant,
On the firewood it renews the path;
His horse smells the snow,
Trotting along somehow;
Fluffy reins exploding,
The daring carriage flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat and a red sash.
Here is a yard boy running,
Having planted a bug in the sled,
Transforming himself into a horse;
The naughty man has already frozen his finger:
It's both painful and funny to him,
And his mother threatens him through the window...

But maybe this kind
Pictures will not attract you:
All this is low nature;
There's not much that's elegant here.
Warmed by inspiration from God,
Another poet with a luxurious style
The first snow painted for us
And all the shades of winter negativity;
He will captivate you, I'm sure of it
Drawing in fiery verses
Secret sleigh rides;
But I don't intend to fight
Neither with him for now, nor with you,
Young Finnish singer!

CHAPTER SIX

7 reading fragment

Poems have been preserved for the occasion;
I have them; here they are:
“Where, where have you gone,
Are the golden days of my spring?
What does the coming day have in store for me?
My gaze catches him in vain,
He lurks in the deep darkness.
No need; rights of fate law.
Will I fall, pierced by an arrow,
Or she will fly by,
All good: vigil and sleep
The certain hour comes;
Blessed is the day of worries,
Blessed is the coming of darkness!

The ray of the morning star will flash in the morning
And the bright day will begin to shine;
And I, perhaps I am the tomb
I'll go down into the mysterious canopy,
And the memory of the young poet
Slow Lethe will be swallowed up,
The world will forget me; notes
Will you come, maiden of beauty,
Shed a tear over the early urn
And think: he loved me,
He dedicated it to me alone
Dawn sad life stormy!..
Heart friend, desired friend,
Come, come: I am your husband!..”

So he wrote darkly and languidly
(What we call romanticism,
Although there is no romanticism here
I don't see; what's in it for us?)
And finally, before dawn,
Bowing my weary head,
On the buzzword, ideal
Lensky quietly dozed off;
But only with sleepy charm
He forgot, he's already a neighbor
The office enters silently
And he wakes up Lensky with a call:
“It’s time to get up: it’s past seven.
Onegin is surely waiting for us.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

8 reading fragment

My poor Lensky! languishing
She didn't cry for long.
Alas! young bride
Unfaithful to her sadness.
Another caught her attention
Another managed her suffering
To lull you to sleep with loving flattery,
Ulan knew how to captivate her,
Ulan loves her with all her soul...
And now with him in front of the altar
She's shyly down the aisle
Stands with his head bowed,
With fire in downcast eyes,
With a light smile on your lips.

My poor Lensky! behind the grave
Within eternity deaf
Is the sad singer embarrassed?
Treason with fatal news,
Or put to sleep over Lethe
Poet, blessed by insensibility,
No longer embarrassed by anything
And the world is closed to him and silent?..
So! indifferent oblivion
Behind the grave awaits us.
Enemies, friends, lovers voice
Suddenly it goes silent. About one estate
Heirs angry chorus
Starts an obscene argument.

And soon Olya’s ringing voice
The Larins family fell silent.
Ulan, his slave of his share,
I had to go with her to the regiment.
Bitterly shedding tears,
An old woman saying goodbye to her daughter,
It seemed that she was barely alive,
But Tanya could not cry;
Only covered with mortal pallor
Her sad face.
When everyone came out onto the porch,
And everyone, saying goodbye, fussed
Around the carriage of young people,
Tatyana saw them off.

CHAPTER EIGHT

9 reading fragment

“Really,” thinks Evgeny:
Is she really? But exactly... No...
How! from the wilderness of steppe villages..."
And the persistent lorgnette
He pays every minute
To the one whose appearance vaguely reminded
He has forgotten features.
“Tell me, prince, don’t you know
Who's there in the crimson beret?
Does he speak Spanish to the ambassador?
The prince looks at Onegin.
- Yeah! You haven't been in the world for a long time.
Wait, I'll introduce you. —
“Who is she?” - My wife. —

“So you're married! I didn’t know before!
How long ago?” - About two years. —
"On whom?" - On Larina. - “Tatyana!”
- Do you know her? - “I’m their neighbor.”
- Oh, then let's go. - The prince is coming
To his wife and lets her down
Relatives and friends.
The princess looks at him...
And whatever troubled her soul,
No matter how strong she was
Surprised, amazed,
But nothing changed her:
It retained the same tone
Her bow was just as quiet.

Hey, hey! not that I shuddered
Or suddenly became pale, red...
Her eyebrow didn't move;
She didn't even press her lips together.
Although he couldn’t look more diligently,
But also traces of the former Tatyana
Onegin could not find it.
He wanted to start a conversation with her
And - and couldn’t. She asked,
How long has he been here, where is he from?
And isn’t it from their side?
Then she turned to her husband
Tired look; slipped out...
And he remained motionless.

10 reading fragment

Love for all ages;
But to young, virgin hearts
Her impulses are beneficial,
Like spring storms across the fields:
In the rain of passions they become fresh,
And they renew themselves and mature -
And the mighty life gives
And lush color and sweet fruit.
But at a late and barren age,
At the turn of our years,
Sad is the passion of the dead trail:
So the storms of autumn are cold
A meadow is turned into a swamp
And they expose the forest around.

There is no doubt: alas! Eugene
In love with Tatyana like a child;
In the anguish of loving thoughts
He spends both day and night.
Without heeding the strict penalties,
To her porch, glass vestibule
He drives up every day;
He chases after her like a shadow;
He's happy if he throws it at her
Fluffy boa on the shoulder,
Or touches hotly
Her hands, or spread
Before her is a motley regiment of liveries,
Or he will lift the scarf for her.

She doesn't notice him
No matter how he fights, at least die.
Accepts freely at home,
When visiting him, he says three words,
Sometimes he will greet you with one bow,
Sometimes he won’t notice at all:
There is not a bit of coquetry in her -
High society does not tolerate him.
Onegin begins to turn pale:
She either doesn’t see it or isn’t sorry;
Onegin dries - and barely
He no longer suffers from consumption.
Everyone sends Onegin to the doctors,
They send him to the waters in unison.

But he doesn’t go; he in advance
Ready to write to my great-grandfathers
About an upcoming meeting; and Tatyana
And it doesn’t matter (that’s their gender);
But he is stubborn, he doesn’t want to fall behind,
He still hopes, he works;
Be brave, healthy, sick,
To the princess with a weak hand
He writes a passionate message.
Although there is little point at all
He did not see in vain in the letters;
But, know, heartache
It has already become unbearable for him.
Here is his exact letter for you.

11 reading passage

CHAPTER EIGHT

III
And I, making a law of myself
Passions are a single arbitrariness,
Sharing feelings with the crowd,
I brought a playful muse
To the noise of feasts and violent disputes,
Thunderstorms of the midnight watch;
And join them in crazy feasts
She carried her gifts
And how the bacchante frolicked,
Over the bowl she sang for the guests,
And the youth of days gone by
She was wildly dragged after her,
And I was proud among friends
My flighty friend.

But I fell behind their union
And he ran into the distance... She followed me.
How often a tender muse
I enjoyed the silent path
The magic of a secret story!
How often on the rocks of the Caucasus
She is Lenora, in the moonlight,
She rode a horse with me!
How often along the banks of Taurida
She me in the darkness of the night
Took me to listen to the sound of the sea,
The silent whisper of Nereid,
Deep, eternal chorus of shafts,
Hymn of praise to the father of the worlds.

And, forgetting the distant capitals
And the glitter and noisy feasts,
In the sad wilderness of Moldova
She is the humble tents
I visited wandering tribes,
And between them she became wild,
And I forgot the speech of the gods
For meager, strange tongues,
For the songs of the steppe, dear to her...
Suddenly everything around me changed,
And here she is in my garden
She appeared as a district young lady,
With a sad thought in my eyes,
With a French book in hand.

12 reading fragment

Blessed is he who was young from his youth,
Blessed is he who matures in time,
Who gradually life is cold
He knew how to endure over the years;
Who hasn't indulged in strange dreams,
Who has not shunned the secular mob,
Who at twenty was a dandy or a smart guy,
And at thirty he is profitably married;
Who was freed at fifty
From private and other debts,
Who is fame, money and ranks
I got in line calmly,
About whom they have been repeating for a century:
N.N. is a wonderful person.

But it's sad to think that it's in vain
We were given youth
That they cheated on her all the time,
That she deceived us;
What are our best wishes?
What are our fresh dreams
Decayed in quick succession,
Like rotten leaves in autumn.
It's unbearable to see in front of you
There's a long row of dinners alone,
Look at life as a ritual
And after the decorous crowd
Go without sharing with her
No common opinions, no passions.

13 reading fragment

Her doubts confuse her:
“Shall I go forward, shall I go back?..
He is not here. They don't know me...
I’ll look at the house, at this garden.”
And then Tatyana comes down the hill,
Barely breathing; circles around
A look full of bewilderment...
And he enters the deserted courtyard.
The dogs rushed towards her, barking.
At her frightened cry
Guys, yard family
She came running noisily. Not without a fight
The boys scattered the dogs
Taking the young lady under his wing.

“Is it possible to see the manor’s house?” —
Tanya asked. Hurry up
The children ran to Anisya
Take the keys to the entryway from her;
Anisya immediately appeared to her,
And the door opened before them,
And Tanya enters the empty house,
Where did our hero recently live?
She looks: forgotten in the hall
The billiard cue was resting,
Lying on a crumpled sofa
Manege whip. Tanya is further away;
The old woman said to her: “Here is the fireplace;
Here the master sat alone.

I dined with him here in the winter
The late Lensky, our neighbor.
Come here, follow me.
This is the master's office;
Here he slept, ate coffee,
Listened to the clerk's reports
And I read a book in the morning...
And the old master lived here;
It happened to me on Sunday,
Here under the window, wearing glasses,
He deigned to play fools.
God bless his soul,
And his bones have peace
In the grave, in mother earth, raw!”

14 reading fragment

Moscow, Russia's beloved daughter,
Where can I find someone equal to you?
Dmitriev

How can you not love your native Moscow?
Baratynsky

Persecution of Moscow! what does it mean to see the light!
Where is it better?
Where we are not.
Griboyedov

Driven by spring rays,
There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped through muddy streams
To the flooded meadows.
Nature's clear smile
Through a dream he greets the morning of the year;
The skies are shining blue.
Still transparent, forests
It's like they're turning green.
Bee for field tribute
Flies from a wax cell.
The valleys are dry and colorful;
The herds rustle and the nightingale
Already singing in the silence of the night.

How sad your appearance is to me,
Spring, spring! it's time for love!
What languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood!
With what heavy tenderness
I enjoy the breeze
Spring blowing in my face
In the lap of rural silence!
Or is pleasure alien to me,
And everything that pleases lives,
All that rejoices and glitters
Causes boredom and languor
For a long time dead soul
And everything seems dark to her?

Or, not happy about the return
Dead leaves in autumn,
We remember the bitter loss
Listening to the new noise of the forests;
Or with nature alive
We bring together the confused thought
We are the fading of our years,
Which cannot be reborn?
Perhaps it comes to our minds
In the midst of a poetic dream
Another, old spring
And it makes our hearts tremble
Dream of the far side
About a wonderful night, about the moon...

15 reading fragment

CHAPTER EIGHT

You can be a smart person
And think about the beauty of nails:
Why argue fruitlessly with the century?
The custom is despot between people.
Second Chadayev, my Evgeniy,
Fearing jealous judgments,
There was a pedant in his clothes
And what we called dandy.
He's at least three o'clock
He spent in front of the mirrors
And he came out of the restroom
Like windy Venus,
When, wearing a man's outfit,
The goddess goes to a masquerade.

In the last taste of the toilet
Taking your curious glance,
I could before the learned light
Here to describe his outfit;
Of course it would be brave
Describe my business:
But trousers, a tailcoat, a vest,
All these words are not in Russian;
And I see, I apologize to you,
Well, my poor syllable is already
I could have been much less colorful
Foreign words
Even though I looked in the old days
In Academic Dictionary.