Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 88

Would ever I hear freedom chime?

It’s time, it’s time! – I want be free!

I stroll by sea shore, watch the sky,

And beckon boats’ sails in the sea.

When shall I leave this boring order?

Clothed by the storms with waves I’ll quarrel,

And run to unrestricted span.

It’s time to leave the boring land,

The elements to me unpleasing,

And in the midday’s wavy space –

In Africa, my old folk’s place,

To sigh of gloomy Russian being,

Of where I suffered, where I loved,

And where my heart I’ve given up.