Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 35

But turning morning into night,

Tired by the ball’s incessant noise,

The votary of vain delight

Sleep in the shadowy couch enjoys,

Late in the afternoon to rise,

When the same life before him lies

Till morn – life uniform but gay,

To-morrow just like yesterday.

But was our friend Eugene content,

Free, in the blossom of his spring,

Amidst successes flattering

And pleasure’s daily blandishment,

Or vainly ’mid luxurious fare

Was he in health and void of care? —