On her face, lit with vain sensation, Brighter the blush. My poor bard Saw all, being himself behind, With very jealous indignation, He for the mazurka’s end, And her for cotillion’s grand. XLV But she’s not to. Is she? But why is.? Onegin has received her word. What does he hear? Oh, God mightiest! How just could she have a thought.? Impossible! Just from her cradle A temptress, a spoiled she’s able To be unfaithful one and base, To learn the canning and wrong ways. Not able to bear stroke unfair, Wishing maids’ mischief to be cursed, He goes out, calls for horse, And away. A pistols’ pair, Two leaden bullets nothing else Have to define his future’s CHAPTER SIX La sotto i giorni nubilosi e brevi, Nasce uan gente a cui l’morir non dole. Petr. I Just having seen that Lensky vanished, Onegin’s in a bore again, He’s sunk in thoughts near Olga, selfish, And pleased with his revenge’s contain. And after him, was Olga yawning, And seeking Lensky with eyes boring, And a cotillion, without end, Was hard for her like a dream bad. At last it ends. There’s served a dinner, The beds are for the guests: They’re stretching from the entrance place Till servants’ rooms. Yes, all need here A peaceful sleep. Onegin, yet, Was one to choose his home’s bed.
On her face, lit with vain sensation, Brighter the blush. My poor bard Saw all, being himself behind, With very jealous indignation, He for the mazurka’s end, And her for cotillion’s grand. XLV But she’s not to. Is she? But why is.? Onegin has received her word. What does he hear? Oh, God mightiest! How just could she have a thought.? Impossible! Just from her cradle A temptress, a spoiled she’s able To be unfaithful one and base, To learn the canning and wrong ways. Not able to bear stroke unfair, Wishing maids’ mischief to be cursed, He goes out, calls for horse, And away. A pistols’ pair, Two leaden bullets nothing else Have to define his future’s CHAPTER SIX La sotto i giorni nubilosi e brevi, Nasce uan gente a cui l’morir non dole. Petr. I Just having seen that Lensky vanished, Onegin’s in a bore again, He’s sunk in thoughts near Olga, selfish, And pleased with his revenge’s contain. And after him, was Olga yawning, And seeking Lensky with eyes boring, And a cotillion, without end, Was hard for her like a dream bad. At last it ends. There’s served a dinner, The beds are for the guests: They’re stretching from the entrance place Till servants’ rooms. Yes, all need here A peaceful sleep. Onegin, yet, Was one to choose his home’s bed.
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