In this article, I publish excerpts from the novel by A.S. Pushkin "Eugene Onegin" for memorization in the 9th grade.

1. Tatyana's letter to Onegin (taught by girls)
I am writing to you - what more?
What else can I say?
Now, I know, at your will
Punish me with contempt.
But you, to my unfortunate lot
Keeping a drop of pity
You will not leave me.
At first I wanted to be silent;
Trust me: my shame
You would never know
If I had hope
Though rarely, even once a week
To see you in our village,
Just to hear your speeches
You have a word to say, and then
Think everything, think one thing
And day and night until we meet again.
But they say you are unsociable;
In the wilderness, in the village, everything is boring for you,
And we. we do not shine with anything,
Though you are welcomed innocently.

Why did you visit us?
In the wilderness of a forgotten village
I never knew you
I would not know the bitter torment.
Souls of inexperienced excitement
Humbled over time (who knows?),
I would find a friend after my heart
There would be a faithful spouse
And a virtuous mother.

Another. No, to nobody in the world
I would not give my heart!
That in the above is destined advice.
That is the will of heaven: I am yours;
My whole life has been a pledge
The faithful meet with you;
I know you were sent to me by God
Until the grave you are my keeper.
You appeared to me in dreams
Invisible, you were already dear to me
Your wonderful look tormented me
In my soul, your voice rang out
For a long time. no, it was not a dream!
You just entered, I instantly knew
All was stunned, flamed
And in my thoughts she said: here he is!
Isn't that so? I heard you:
You spoke to me in silence
When I helped the poor
Or she delighted with prayer
The longing of an agitated soul?
And at this very moment
Is it not you, dear vision,
In the transparent darkness flashed
Crouched quietly to the headboard?
Not you, with joy and love,
Whispered words of hope to me?
Who are you, my guardian angel,
Or an insidious tempter:
Resolve my doubts.
Maybe it's all empty
Deception of an inexperienced soul!
And it was destined to be completely different.
But so be it! My destiny
From now on I give you
I shed tears in front of you,
I beg your protection.
Imagine: I'm here alone
Nobody understands me,
My mind is exhausted,
And I must die in silence.
I'm waiting for you: with a single gaze
Revive the hopes of the heart
Or interrupt a heavy dream,
Alas, a well-deserved reproach!

I'm finishing! It's scary to reread.
I freeze in shame and fear.
But your honor is my guarantee,
And I boldly entrust myself to her.

2. Letter from Onegin to Tatiana(boys teach)
I foresee everything: he will offend you
A sad secret explanation.
What a bitter contempt
Your proud look will portray!
What I want? for what purpose
Will I open my soul to you?
What wicked fun
Perhaps I am giving a reason!

Having met you by chance,
Noticing a spark of tenderness in you,
I didn't dare to believe her:
I didn’t give way to a cute habit;
Your hateful freedom
I didn't want to lose.
Another thing tore us apart.
Lenskoy fell an unfortunate victim.
About everything that is sweet to the heart,
Then I tore off my heart;
Alien to everyone, unconnected by anything,
I thought: freedom and peace
A replacement for happiness. My God!
How wrong I was, how punished!

No, to see you every minute,
Follow you everywhere,
The smile of the lips, the movement of the eyes
Catch with loving eyes
To listen to you for a long time, to understand
Your soul is all your perfection
To die in agony before you,
Turn pale and fade away. here is bliss!

And I am deprived of that: for you
I trudge everywhere at random;
The day is dear to me, the hour is dear to me:
And I spend in vain boredom
Days counted by fate.
And they are so painful.
I know: my century has already been measured;
But to prolong my life,
I must be sure in the morning
That I will see you in the afternoon.

I'm afraid: in the prayer of my humble
Will see your stern gaze
Contemptible cunning designs -
And I hear your angry reproach.
If you knew how awful
To languish with a thirst for love
To blaze - and the mind is all the hour
To subdue the excitement in the blood;
Wanting to hug your knees
And, weeping, at your feet
Pour out pleas, confessions, penalties,
Everything, everything that I could express.
And meanwhile feigned coldness
Arm both speech and sight,
Have a calm conversation
Look at you with a cheerful look.

But so be it: I'm on my own
You cannot resist anymore;
Everything is decided: I am in your will,
And surrender to my destiny.

3. Fragments about nature(all students learn 1 fragment out of two)

Fragment No. 1
Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
Less often the sun shone
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked,
Fog fell on the fields,
Noisy caravan geese
Stretched towards the south: approached
Quite a boring time;
It was November already at the yard.

The dawn rises in the cold haze;
In the fields, the noise of work ceased;
With her hungry wolf
A wolf comes out on the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and a careful traveler
It rushes up the mountain with all its might;
In the morning dawn, the shepherd
Doesn't drive the cows out of the barn,
And at noon in a circle
His horn does not call them;
Singing in the hut, maiden
Spins, and, the winter friend of the nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.

And now the frosts are cracking
And silver among the fields.
(The reader is waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take her soon!)
Prettier than fashionable parquet
The river is shining, it is dressed with ice.
Boys are joyful people
She cuts the ice with her skates;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having conceived to swim in the bosom of the waters,
Steps gently on the ice
Slips and falls; happy
The first snow flickers, winds,
Falling like stars on the shore.

Fragment number 2
That year the autumn weather
I stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third in the night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
In the morning, the whitened courtyard,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glasses,
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly covered mountains
Winters are a splendid carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.

Winter. The peasant, triumphant,
On the logs it updates the path;
His horse, smelling the snow,
Weaving at a trot somehow;
Exploding fluffy reins,
The daring wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a courtyard boy running,
Putting a bug in the sled,
Transforming yourself into a horse;
The mischief has already froze his finger:
He is both hurt and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window.

Driven by the spring rays

There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped by muddy streams
To the sunken meadows
A clear smile of nature
He meets the morning of the year through a dream;
The blue shines in the skies.
Still transparent, forests
As if they are turning green in rest.
A bee for a tribute to the field
Flies out of the wax cell.
The valleys dry and dazzle;
The flocks are noisy, and the nightingale
I was already singing in the silence of the nights.

In this article, I publish excerpts from the novel by A.S. Pushkin "Eugene Onegin" for memorization in the 9th grade.

1. Tatyana's letter to Onegin (taught by girls)
I am writing to you - what more?
What else can I say?
Now, I know, at your will
Punish me with contempt.
But you, to my unfortunate lot
Keeping a drop of pity
You will not leave me.
At first I wanted to be silent;
Trust me: my shame
You would never know
If I had hope
Though rarely, even once a week
To see you in our village,
Just to hear your speeches
You have a word to say, and then
Think everything, think one thing
And day and night until we meet again.
But they say you are unsociable;
In the wilderness, in the village, everything is boring for you,
And we ... we do not shine with anything,
Though you are welcomed innocently.

Why did you visit us?
In the wilderness of a forgotten village
I never knew you
I would not know the bitter torment.
Souls of inexperienced excitement
Humbled over time (who knows?),
I would find a friend after my heart
There would be a faithful spouse
And a virtuous mother.

Another! .. No, no one in the world
I would not give my heart!
That in the above is destined advice ...
That is the will of heaven: I am yours;
My whole life has been a pledge
The faithful meet with you;
I know you were sent to me by God
Until the grave, you are my keeper ...
You appeared to me in dreams
Invisible, you were already dear to me
Your wonderful look tormented me
In my soul, your voice rang out
Long ago ... no, it was not a dream!
You just entered, I instantly knew
All was stunned, flamed
And in my thoughts she said: here he is!
Isn't that so? I heard you:
You spoke to me in silence
When I helped the poor
Or she delighted with prayer
The longing of an agitated soul?
And at this very moment
Is it not you, dear vision,
In the transparent darkness flashed
Crouched quietly to the headboard?
Not you, with joy and love,
Whispered words of hope to me?
Who are you, my guardian angel,
Or an insidious tempter:
Resolve my doubts.
Maybe it's all empty
Deception of an inexperienced soul!
And completely different is destined ...
But so be it! My destiny
From now on I give you
I shed tears in front of you,
I beg your protection ...
Imagine: I'm here alone
Nobody understands me,
My mind is exhausted,
And I must die in silence.
I'm waiting for you: with a single gaze
Revive the hopes of the heart
Or interrupt a heavy dream,
Alas, a well-deserved reproach!

I'm finishing! It's scary to reread ...
I freeze with shame and fear ...
But your honor is my guarantee,
And boldly I entrust myself to her ...

2. Letter from Onegin to Tatiana(boys teach)
I foresee everything: he will offend you
A sad secret explanation.
What a bitter contempt
Your proud look will portray!
What I want? for what purpose
Will I open my soul to you?
What wicked fun
Perhaps I am giving a reason!

Having met you by chance,
Noticing a spark of tenderness in you,
I didn't dare to believe her:
I didn’t give way to a cute habit;
Your hateful freedom
I didn't want to lose.
Another thing tore us apart ...
The unfortunate victim of Lena fell ...
About everything that is sweet to the heart,
Then I tore off my heart;
Alien to everyone, unconnected by anything,
I thought: freedom and peace
A replacement for happiness. My God!
How wrong I was, how punished!

No, to see you every minute,
Follow you everywhere,
The smile of the lips, the movement of the eyes
Catch with loving eyes
To listen to you for a long time, to understand
Your soul is all your perfection
To die in agony before you,
To fade and fade ... here is bliss!

And I am deprived of that: for you
I trudge everywhere at random;
The day is dear to me, the hour is dear to me:
And I spend in vain boredom
Days counted by fate.
And they are so painful.
I know: my century has already been measured;
But to prolong my life,
I must be sure in the morning
That I will see you in the afternoon ...

I'm afraid: in the prayer of my humble
Will see your stern gaze
Contemptible cunning designs -
And I hear your angry reproach.
If you knew how awful
To languish with a thirst for love
To blaze - and the mind is all the hour
To subdue the excitement in the blood;
Wanting to hug your knees
And, weeping, at your feet
Pour out pleas, confessions, penalties,
Everything, everything that I could express.
And meanwhile feigned coldness
Arm both speech and sight,
Have a calm conversation
Look at you with a cheerful look! ..

But so be it: I'm on my own
You cannot resist anymore;
Everything is decided: I am in your will,
And surrender to my destiny.

3. Fragments about nature (all students learn 1 fragment out of two)

Fragment No. 1
Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
Less often the sun shone
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked,
Fog fell on the fields,
Noisy caravan geese
Stretched towards the south: approached
Quite a boring time;
It was November already at the yard.

The dawn rises in the cold haze;
In the fields, the noise of work ceased;
With her hungry wolf
A wolf comes out on the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and a careful traveler
It rushes up the mountain with all its might;
In the morning dawn, the shepherd
Doesn't drive the cows out of the barn,
And at noon in a circle
His horn does not call them;
Singing in the hut, maiden
Spins, and, the winter friend of the nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.

And now the frosts are cracking
And silver among the fields ...
(The reader is waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take her soon!)
Prettier than fashionable parquet
The river is shining, it is dressed with ice.
Boys are joyful people
She cuts the ice with her skates;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having conceived to swim in the bosom of the waters,
Steps gently on the ice
Slips and falls; happy
The first snow flickers, winds,
Falling like stars on the shore.

Fragment number 2
That year the autumn weather
I stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third in the night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
In the morning, the whitened courtyard,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glasses,
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly covered mountains
Winters are a splendid carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.

Winter! .. The peasant, triumphant,
On the logs it updates the path;
His horse, smelling the snow,
Weaving at a trot somehow;
Exploding fluffy reins,
The daring wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a courtyard boy running,
Putting a bug in the sled,
Transforming yourself into a horse;
The mischief has already froze his finger:
He is both hurt and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window ...

Plus this one:

Driven by the spring rays

There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped by muddy streams
To the sunken meadows
A clear smile of nature
He meets the morning of the year through a dream;
The blue shines in the skies.
Still transparent, forests
As if they are turning green in rest.
A bee for a tribute to the field
Flies out of the wax cell.
The valleys dry and dazzle;
The flocks are noisy, and the nightingale
I was already singing in the silence of the nights.

Extracts from "Eugene Onegin" for recording on video - your choice

Detailed description of the project - .

CHAPTER ONE

1 snippet to read:

I
“My uncle has the most honest rules,
When seriously ill,
He made himself respect
And I could not have imagined it better.
His example to others is science;
But oh my god, what a boredom
Sitting with a sick person day and night,
Without leaving a single step away!
What a base deceit
To amuse half-dead
To correct his pillows,
It's sad to bring medicine
Sigh and think to yourself:
When will the devil take you! "

II
So the young rake thought,
Flying in the dust on the postage
By the Most High will of Zeus
Heir to all his relatives.
Friends of Lyudmila and Ruslan!
With the hero of my novel
Without preamble, this very hour
Let me introduce you:
Onegin, my good friend,
Born on the banks of the Neva,
Where maybe you were born
Or shone, my reader;
I once walked there too:
But the north is bad for me.

III
Serving perfectly nobly,
His father lived in debt,
Gave three balls annually
And he skipped at last.
Evgeny's fate kept:
At first Madame followed him,
Then Monsieur replaced her.
The child was cut, but sweet.
Monsieur l'Abbe, poor Frenchman,
So that the child is not exhausted,
I taught him everything in jest,
I did not bother with strict morality,
Slightly scolded for pranks
And he took him for a walk to the Summer Garden.

IV
When rebellious youth
It's time for Eugene,
It's time for hopes and tender sadness
Monsieur was driven out of the yard.
Here is my Onegin at large;
Cut in the latest fashion
How dandy London is dressed -
Finally I saw the light.
He is in French perfectly
I could express myself and write;
Easily danced the mazurka
And bowed at ease;
What is more to you? The light decided
That he is smart and very nice.

2 snippet to read:

We now have something wrong with the subject:
We'd better hurry to the ball
Where headlong in the pit carriage
Already my Onegin galloped.
Before the faded houses
Along the sleepy street in rows
Double carriage lights
Merry light is pouring out
And they lead rainbows to the snow;
Littered with bowls all around
The magnificent house shines;
Shadows walk on solid windows,
Head profiles flash
And ladies and fashionable cranks.

Here our hero drove up to the entrance;
The doorman is past him with an arrow
Soared up the marble steps
Spread my hair with my hand
Has entered. The hall is full of people;
The music is tired of thundering;
The crowd is busy with the mazurka;
All around and noise and cramped;
The spurs of the cavalry guard strum;
Legs of lovely ladies fly;
In their captivating footsteps
Fiery eyes fly
And the roar of the violins is drowned out
Jealous whispers of fashionable wives.

During the days of joy and desire
I was crazy about balls:
Rather, there is no room for confessions
And for the delivery of the letter.
O you, honorable spouses!
I will offer you my services;
Please note my speech:
I want to warn you.
You too, mamas, are stricter
Follow your daughters:
Keep your lorgnette straight!
Not that ... not that, God forbid!
That's why I'm writing this,
That I have not sinned for a long time.

CHAPTER TWO

3 reading fragment

Her sister was called Tatiana ...
For the first time with such a name
The tender pages of the novel
We willfully sanctify.
So what then? it is pleasant, sonorous;
But with him, I know, is inseparable
Remembrance of antiquity
Or maiden! We all have to
Admit it: there is very little taste
In ours and in our names
(Let's not talk about poetry);
Enlightenment is not for us,
And we got it from him
Arrogance - nothing more.

So, she was called Tatiana.
Not her sister's beauty,
Nor the freshness of her ruddy
She would not have attracted the eyes.
Dick, sad, silent,
As a forest doe is fearful,
She is in her family
She seemed like a stranger to a girl.
She did not know how to caress
To his father, nor to his mother;
Child herself, in a crowd of children
I didn't want to play and jump
And often all day alone
She sat silently by the window.

Thoughtfulness, her friend
From the most lullaby days
Rural leisure flow
Decorated her with dreams.
Her pampered fingers
Didn't know needles; leaning on the embroidery frame,
With a silk pattern she
Didn't bring the canvases to life.
A sign of desire to rule
With an obedient doll child
Jokingly prepared
To decency - the law of light,
And importantly repeats to her
Lessons from my mother.

But dolls even in these years
Tatyana did not take it in her hands;
About news of the city, about fashion
I didn't talk to her.
And there were childish pranks
She is alien: scary stories
In the winter in the dark of nights
More captivated her heart.
When did the nanny collect
For Olga on a wide meadow
All of her little friends
She didn't play burners
She was bored and sonorous laughter,
And the noise of their windy pleasures.

CHAPTER THREE

4 reading fragment

Tatyana, dear Tatyana!
With you now I shed tears;
You are in the hands of a fashionable tyrant
Already gave up her fate.
You will die, dear; but before
You are in blinding hope
You call dark bliss
You will learn the bliss of life
You drink the magic poison of desires
Dreams haunt you:
Everywhere you imagine
Happy Date Shelters;
Everywhere, everywhere in front of you
Your fatal tempter.

Longing for love drives Tatiana,
And she goes to the garden to be sad,
And suddenly his eyes tend to be motionless,
And she is too lazy to step further.
Raised chest, Lanita
Covered in an instant flame,
The breath stopped in my mouth
And there is noise in the ear, and shine in the eyes ...
The night will come; moon bypasses
Watch the distant vault of heaven,
And a nightingale in the darkness of wood
Resonant melodies start.
Tatiana does not sleep in the dark
And quietly with the nanny says:

“I can't sleep, nanny: it's so stuffy here!
Open the window and sit with me. "
- What, Tanya, what's wrong with you? - "I'm bored,
Let's talk about the old days. "
- About what, Tanya? I used to
I kept in my memory a lot
Old stories, fables
About evil spirits and about girls;
And now everything is dark for me, Tanya:
I forgot what I knew. Yes,
A thin turn has come!
It’s overwhelmed ... - “Tell me, nanny,
About your old years:
Were you in love then? "

CHAPTER FOUR

5 fragment for reading

The dawn rises in the cold haze;
In the fields, the noise of work ceased;
With her hungry wolf
A wolf comes out on the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and a careful traveler
It rushes up the mountain with all its might;
In the morning dawn, the shepherd
Doesn't drive the cows out of the barn,
And at noon in a circle
His horn does not call them;
Singing in the hut, maiden
Spins, and, the winter friend of the nights,
A splinter crackles in front of her.

And now the frosts are cracking
And silver among the fields ...
(The reader is waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take her soon!)
Prettier than fashionable parquet
The river is shining, it is dressed with ice.
Boys are joyful people (24)
She cuts the ice with her skates;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having conceived to swim in the bosom of the waters,
Steps gently on the ice
Slips and falls; happy
The first snow flickers, winds,
Falling like stars on the shore.

In the wilderness, what to do at this time?
Walk? The village at that time
Involuntarily bothers the gaze
Monotonous nakedness.
Horseback riding in the harsh steppe?
But a horse, a blunted horseshoe
Wrong catching ice
That and wait for what will fall.
Sit under the roof of the desert
Read: here is Pradt, here is W. Scott.
Do not want? - check the consumption,
Be angry or drink, and the evening is long
Somehow it will pass, and tomorrow too,
And you will have a nice winter.

CHAPTER FIVE

6 fragment for reading

That year the autumn weather
I stood in the yard for a long time
Winter was waiting, nature was waiting.
Snow fell only in January
On the third in the night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
In the morning, the whitened courtyard,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
There are light patterns on the glasses,
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly covered mountains
Winters are a splendid carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.

Winter! .. The peasant, triumphant,
On the logs it updates the path;
His horse, smelling the snow,
Weaving at a trot somehow;
Exploding fluffy reins,
The daring wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a courtyard boy running,
Putting a bug in the sled,
Transforming yourself into a horse;
The mischief has already froze his finger:
He is both hurt and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window ...

But maybe this kind
Pictures will not attract you:
All this is low nature;
There is not much elegant here.
Warmed by inspiration by God
Another poet in a splendid syllable
Painted us the first snow
And all the shades of winter neg;
He will captivate you, I'm sure of that
Painting in fiery verses
Secret walks in a sleigh;
But I don't intend to fight
Not with him yet, not with you,
Young Finnish singer!

CHAPTER SIX

7 snippet to read

Poems have been preserved in case;
I have them; here they are:
"Where, where have you gone,
Are my golden days of spring?
What is the coming day for me?
My gaze catches him in vain,
It lurks in deep darkness.
No need; the right of fate is the law.
Will I fall, pierced by an arrow,
Or will she fly by
All blessings: vigil and sleep
The definite hour is coming;
Blessed is the day of worries,
Blessed is the arrival of darkness!

In the morning the ray of the day will flash
And a bright day will play;
And I, maybe I am the tombs
I will go down into the mysterious shade,
And the memory of the young poet
Swallow up the slow Lethe,
The world will forget me; notes
Will you come, maiden of beauty,
Shed a tear over the early urn
And think: he loved me,
He dedicated to me alone
The sad dawn of a stormy life! ..
A warm friend, a welcome friend,
Come, come: I am your spouse! .. "

So he wrote dark and sluggish
(What we call romanticism
Although there is not a bit of romanticism here
I do not see; what is it to us?)
And finally, before dawn,
Bowing with a tired head
On the buzzword ideal
Lensky dozed off quietly;
But only with a sleepy charm
He has forgotten, already a neighbor
The silent office enters
And he wakes up Lensky with an appeal:
“It's time to get up: it's already seven o'clock.
Onegin is surely waiting for us. "

CHAPTER SEVEN

8 snippet to read

My poor Lensky! languishing,
She did not cry for long.
Alas! young bride
Your sadness is wrong.
Another drew her attention,
Another had time for her suffering
Euthanize with love flattery,
Ulan knew how to captivate her,
Ulan is loved by her soul ...
And now with him at the altar
She's shyly under the aisle
Stands with his head bowed,
With fire in downcast eyes,
With a light smile on my lips.

My poor Lensky! behind the grave
Deaf within eternity
Was the sad singer embarrassed,
Treason fatal news,
Or lulled over Leta
The poet, blessed with insensibility,
I'm not embarrassed by anything,
And the world is closed to him and him? ..
So! indifferent oblivion
Behind the coffin awaits us.
Enemies, friends, mistresses voice
Suddenly it will be silent. About one property
Heirs angry chorus
Has an obscene argument.

And soon Olya's clear voice
The Larins fell silent in the family.
Ulan, his share slave,
I had to go with her to the regiment.
Tears streaming bitterly,
The old woman, saying goodbye to her daughter,
It seemed that she was a little alive
But Tanya could not cry;
Only a mortal pallor covered
Her sad face.
When everyone went out on the porch,
And everything, saying goodbye, fussed
Around the carriage of the young,
Tatiana accompanied them.

CHAPTER EIGHT

9 snippet to read

"Really, - thinks Eugene: -
Is she really? But for sure ... No ...
How! from the wilderness of the steppe villages ... "
And the obsessive lorgnette
He draws by the minute
The one whose appearance reminded vaguely
Forgotten features to him.
"Tell me, prince, do you not know,
Who is there in the crimson beret
Does he speak Spanish with the ambassador? "
The prince looks at Onegin.
- Aha! you haven't been in the world for a long time.
Wait, I'll introduce you. -
"Who is she?" - My wife. -

“So you're married! I did not know the wound!
How long has it been? " - About two years. -
"On whom?" - On Larina. - "Tatiana!"
- Do you know her? - "I'm their neighbor."
- Oh, let's go. - The prince approaches
To his wife and her
Relatives and friends.
The princess looks at him ...
And whatever embarrassed her soul,
No matter how strong she is
Surprised, amazed
But nothing changed her:
It retains the same tone
Her bow was just as quiet.

She-she! not that shudder
Ile suddenly became pale, red ...
Her eyebrow did not move;
She did not even purse her lips.
Although he looked no more diligently,
But also traces of Tatyana's former
Onegin could not find.
He wanted to make a speech with her
And - and could not. She asked,
How long has he been here, where is he from?
And isn't it from their sides?
Then she turned to her husband
Tired look; slipped out ...
And he remained motionless.

10 snippet to read

Love for all ages;
But to young, virgin hearts
Her impulses are beneficial
Like spring storms in the fields:
In the rain of passions they freshen
And they are renewed and ripen -
And the mighty life gives
And lush color and sweet fruit.
But at a late and barren age,
At the turn of our years
Sad trail of passion:
So cold autumn storms
The meadow is turned into a swamp
And they lay bare the forest around.

There is no doubt: alas! Evgeniy
In love with Tatiana as a child;
In the anguish of loving thoughts
He spends day and night.
The mind does not heed the strict penalties,
To her porch, glass entrance
He drives up every day;
He chases after her like a shadow;
He is happy if he throws it on her
Boa fluffy on the shoulder,
Or touches hotly
Her arms, or spread
Before her is a motley regiment of liveries,
Or he will raise a handkerchief for her.

She doesn't notice him
No matter how he fight, even die.
Free at home accepts
On a visit with him, he says three words,
Sometimes he will meet with one bow,
Sometimes he will not notice at all:
There is not a drop of coquetry in her -
The Upper Light does not tolerate him.
Onegin begins to turn pale:
She can't see it, or it's not a pity;
Onegin dries - and barely
He is not suffering from consumption.
Everyone sends Onegin to the doctors,
Those in chorus send him to the waters.

And he does not go; he in advance
Ready to write to great-grandfathers
About an early meeting; and Tatiana
And the case is not (their gender is that);
And he is stubborn, does not want to be left behind,
He still hopes, bothers;
Brave the healthy, sick,
To the princess with a weak hand
He writes a passionate message.
Although there is little use at all
He didn’t see it in letters;
But, know, heartache
It had already come to him unbearable.
Here is his letter to you exactly.

11 fragment to read

CHAPTER EIGHT

III
And I, imputing to myself
Passions one arbitrariness,
Sharing feelings with the crowd,
I brought a frisky muse
To the noise of feasts and violent arguments,
Thunderstorms of midnight patrols;
And to them on crazy feasts
She carried her gifts
And how the bacchante frolicked,
She sang for the guests over the bowl,
And the youth of days gone by
She dragged violently behind her,
And I was proud among friends
My windy friend.

But I fell behind their union
And fled into the distance ... She followed me.
How often is an affectionate muse
I was delighted by the dumb path
The magic of a secret story!
How often on the rocks of the Caucasus
She is Lenore, in the moonlight,
I rode a horse with me!
How often on the banks of Taurida
She me in the darkness of the night
Drove to listen to the noise of the sea,
The silent whisper of Nereid,
A deep, eternal chorus of shafts,
A hymn of praise to the father of the worlds.

And, forgetting the distant capital
And shine and noisy feasts,
In the wilderness of sad Moldova
She is humble tents
I visited the wandering tribes,
And ran wild between them,
And forgot the speech of the gods
For meager, strange languages,
For songs of the steppe, dear to her ...
Suddenly everything changed around,
And here she is in my garden
She appeared as a district lady,
With a sad thought in the eyes,
With a French book in hand.

12 fragment to read

Blessed is he who was young from a young age,
Blessed is he who ripened in time,
Who gradually lives cold
He knew how to endure over the years;
Who did not indulge in strange dreams,
Who was not averse to the secular rabble,
Who was dandy or grip at twenty years old,
And at thirty he is profitably married;
Who freed themselves at fifty
From private and other debts,
Who is fame, money and ranks
Quietly I got in line,
Who has been talked about for a century:
N. N. is a wonderful person.

But it's sad to think it's in vain
Youth was given to us,
That they cheated on her every hour
That she deceived us;
That our best wishes are
That our fresh dreams
Decayed in quick succession
Like leaves rotten in autumn.
It is unbearable to see in front of you
There is a long row of dinners alone,
To look at life as a rite of passage,
And after the decorous crowd
Go without sharing with her
No shared opinions, no passions.

13 readable snippet

Her doubts are confused:
"Will I go forward, shall I go back? ..
He is not here. They don't know me ...
I'll take a look at the house, at this garden. "
And then Tatiana descends from the hill,
Barely breathing; circles around
Full of perplexity ...
And he enters the deserted courtyard.
The dogs rushed to her, barking.
To the scream of her frightened
The guys are a courtyard family
It came running noisily. Not without a fight
The boys scattered the dogs
Taking the young lady under her cover.

"Is it possible to see the manor house?" -
Tanya asked. Hurry up
The children ran to Anisya
Take the keys from her;
Anisya immediately appeared to her,
And the door opened before them,
And Tanya enters the empty house,
Where our hero lived recently.
She looks: forgotten in the hall
The cue was resting on the billiards,
On a crumpled canapé lay
Manege whip. Tanya is far away;
The old woman told her: “And here is the fireplace;
Here the master sat alone.

Here I dined with him in the winter
The late Lensky, our neighbor.
Please come here, follow me.
This is the master's office;
Here he rested, ate coffee,
The bailiff listened to the reports
And I read a book in the morning ...
And the old master lived here;
With me, it used to be on Sunday,
Here under the window, wearing glasses,
Deigned to play fools.
May God grant his soul salvation,
And to the bones of his peace
In the grave, in mother earth, damp! "

14 readable snippet

Moscow, Russia's daughter is loved,
Where can you find your equal?
Dmitriev

How not to love your native Moscow?
Baratynsky

Persecution of Moscow! what does it mean to see the light!
Where is better?
Where we are not.
Griboyedov

Driven by the spring rays
There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped by muddy streams
To the sunken meadows
A clear smile of nature
He meets the morning of the year through a dream;
The blue shines in the skies.
Still transparent, forests
As if they are turning green in rest.
A bee for a tribute to the field
Flies out of the wax cell.
The valleys dry and dazzle;
The flocks are noisy, and the nightingale
I was already singing in the silence of the nights.

How sad is your appearance to me,
Spring, spring! it's time for love!
What a languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood!
With what heavy emotion
I enjoy the breeze
Into my face the blowing spring
In the bosom of rural silence!
Or pleasure is alien to me,
And everything that pleases lives
All that rejoices and glitters
Brings boredom and languor
For a long dead soul
And everything seems dark to her?

Or, not rejoicing in the return
Dead leaves in the fall,
We remember the bitter loss
Listening to the new noise of the forests;
Or with nature lively
We bring together the confused thought
We are the withering of our years,
Which there is no rebirth?
Perhaps it comes to our thoughts
In the midst of a poetic dream
Another, old spring
And the heart thrills us
Dream of the far side
About a wonderful night, about the moon ...

15 snippet to read

CHAPTER EIGHT

You can be a smart person
And think about the beauty of nails:
Why is it fruitless to argue with the century?
The custom of a despot among people.
Second Chadayev, my Evgeny,
Afraid of jealous judgments
There was a pedant in his clothes
And what we called dandy.
He's three hours at least
I spent in front of the mirrors
And came out of the restroom
Like windy Venus
When, putting on a man's outfit,
The goddess goes to the masquerade.

In the last taste of the toilet
Taking your curious gaze,
I could be in front of the learned light
Describe his outfit here;
Of course it would be bold
To describe my own business:
But pantaloons, tailcoat, vest,
All these words are not in Russian;
And I see, I blame you,
That my poor syllable is already so
It could be much less colorful
With foreign words
Although I looked in the old days
To the Academic Dictionary.

CHAPTER FOUR

But our northern summer
Southern winters caricature,
It will flicker and no: this is known,
We don’t want to admit it.
Already the sky was breathing in autumn,
Less often the sun shone
The day was getting shorter
Mysterious forest canopy
With a sad noise she was naked,
Fog fell on the fields,
Noisy caravan geese
Stretched towards the south: approached
Quite a boring time;
It was November already at the yard.

The dawn rises in the cold haze;
In the fields, the noise of work ceased;
With his hungry wolf The wolf comes out on the road;
Smelling him, the road horse
Snores - and a careful traveler
It rushes up the mountain with all its might;
In the morning dawn, the shepherd
Doesn't drive the cows out of the barn,
And at noon in a circle
His horn does not call them;
Singing in the hut, maiden
Spinning, and, winter friend of the nights,
A torch crackles in front of her.

And now the frosts are cracking
And silver among the fields ...
(The reader is waiting for the rhyme of the rose;
Here, take it quickly!)
Prettier than fashionable parquet
The river is shining, it is dressed with ice.
Boys are joyful people
She cuts the ice with her skates;
The goose is heavy on red legs,
Having conceived to swim in the bosom of the waters,
Steps gently on the ice
Slips and falls; happy
The first snow flashes,
Falling like stars on the shore.

CHAPTER FIVE

Autumn weather that year
I stood in the yard for a long time
Winter waited, nature waited,
Snow fell only in January,
On the third in the night. Waking up early
Tatyana saw through the window
In the morning, the whitened courtyard,
Curtains, roofs and fences,
Light patterns on the glass
Trees in winter silver
Forty merry in the yard
And softly covered mountains
Winters are a splendid carpet.
Everything is bright, everything is white around.

Winter! .. The peasant, triumphant,
On the logs it updates the path;
His horse, smelling the snow,
Trails at a trot somehow,
Exploding fluffy reins,
The daring wagon flies;
The coachman sits on the beam
In a sheepskin coat, in a red sash.
Here is a courtyard boy running,
Putting a bug in the sled,
Transforming yourself into a horse;
The mischief has already froze his finger:
He is both hurt and funny,
And his mother threatens him through the window ...

CHAPTER SEVEN

Driven by the spring rays
There is already snow from the surrounding mountains
Escaped by muddy streams
To the sunken meadows
A clear smile of nature
He meets the morning of the year through a dream;
The blue shines in the skies.
Still transparent, forests As if they are turning green in peace.
A bee for the field tribute Flies from a wax cell.
The valleys dry and dazzle;
The flocks are noisy, and the nightingale
I was already singing in the silence of the nights.

How sad is your appearance to me,
Spring, spring! it's time for love!
What a languid excitement
In my soul, in my blood!
With what heavy emotion
I enjoy the breeze
Into my face the blowing spring
In the bosom of rural silence!
Or pleasure is alien to me,
And everything that pleases lives
Everything that rejoices and glitters
Brings boredom and languor
For a long time dead soul
And everything seems dark to her?

Or, not rejoicing in the return
Dead leaves in the fall,
We remember the bitter loss
Listening to the new noise of the forests;
Or with a lively nature
Bringing the confused mind together
We are the withering of our years,
Which there is no rebirth?
Perhaps it comes to our thoughts
In the midst of a poetic dream
Another, old spring
And the heart thrills us
Dream of the far side
About a wonderful night, about the moon ...

Russian ball of the 18th - early 20th century. Dances, costumes, symbols Zakharova Oksana Yurievna

Alexander Pushkin Eugene Onegin Excerpt from the novel

Alexander Pushkin

Eugene Onegin

Excerpt from the novel