Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 66

He sang of love – to love a slave.

His ditties were as pure and bright

As thoughts which gentle maidens have,

As a babe’s slumber, or the light

Of the moon in the tranquil skies,

Goddess of lovers’ tender sighs.

He sang of separation grim,

Of what not, and of distant dim,

Of roses to romancers dear;

To foreign lands he would allude,

Where long time he in solitude

Had let fall many a bitter tear:

He sang of life’s fresh colours stained

Before he eighteen years attained.