Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 71

A sickness of an unknown kind,

Which should be cleared long time ago

(It somehow English spleen reminds

And is khandra in Russian term),

Had seized him little at a time.

To shoot himself he did not try,

And thank you, God, for the assistance,

But he cooled off routine existence.

He showed himself in high society

Like Child Harold sullen, sad,

Nor boston, nor immodest chat,

Nor sigh or glance could now excite him,

No, nothing could awake his soul,

He was ignoring the whole world.