Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 84

With soul by sorrow overflown,

Against a granite bar had rest,

Onegin stood on Neva’s mole,

As Poet sometimes self-expressed.

Allover silence, in the distance

The sentries’ calls recalled existence;

The sounds of a cab wheels’ rumble

Disturbed the calm all of a sudden.

A boat was flapping by the oars

While gliding on the dreaming river,

And we were captured by a singer,

Play of a horn, which broke the drowse…

But by Torquato* octave rhymes

Grant to me even more surprise!