Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 76

And then, anew, as always idle

And being by a void depressed

He tried this time the others’ mind

To privatize. Here, I say – Yes!

Thus, on a shelf he’d set books’ row

And tried to read them, but what for?

Here’s boredom, there is fraud or lie,

Here – lack of conscious, there – poor style,

And all of them are far from freemen.

The old ones look quite obsolete,

The new – the old ones repeat.

Thus, he’d left books like did with women,

The shelf, where books were set in row,

He covered with taffeta cloth.