Читать книгу Евгений Онегин / Eugene Onegin - Александр Сергеевич Пушкин, Александр Пушкин, Pushkin Aleksandr - Страница 95

Meantime, drink deeply of the flow

Of frivolous existence, friends;

Its insignificance I know

And care but little for its ends.

To dreams I long have closed mine eyes,

Yet sometimes banished hopes will rise

And agitate my heart again;

And thus it is ’twould cause me pain

Without the faintest trace to leave

This world. I do not praise desire,

Yet still apparently aspire

My mournful fate in verse to weave,

That like a friendly voice its tone

Rescue me from oblivion.