Комментарии к «Евгению Онегину» Александра Пушкина

 with its abundance seethes.   Here the Hindu brought pearls,
   the European, spurious wines,
   the breeder from the steppes
 ⁸ drove a herd of cast steeds,
   the gamester brought his decks,
   fistful of complaisant dice,
   the landowner ripe daughters,
¹² and daughterlings, the fashions of last year;
   each bustles, lies enough for two,
   and everywhere there's a mercantile spirit.

   Ennui!...

Onegin fares to Astrahan [XI], and from there to the[Caucasus:

 a deer stands, with bent horns;   the camel lies in the cliff's shade;
   in meadows courses the Circassian's steed,
   and round nomadic tents
 ⁸ the sheep of Kalmuks graze.
   Afar [loom] the Caucasian masses.
   The way to them is clear. War penetrated
   beyond their natural divide,
¹² across their perilous barriers.
   The banks of the Arágva and Kurá
   saw Russian tents.

   Now, the eternal watchman of the waste,
   Beshtú, compressed around by hills,
   stands up, sharp-peaked,
 ⁴ and, showing green, Mashúk,
   Mashúk, of healing streams dispenser;
   around its magic brooks
   a pallid swarm of patients presses,
 ⁸ the victims, some of martial honor,
   some of the Piles, and some of Cypris.
   In waves miraculous the sufferer
   plans to make firm the thread of life.
¹² To leave the wicked years' offenses at the bottom
   [plans] the coquette, and the old man
   [plans] to grow young — if only for a moment.

   Onegin, nursing bitter meditations,
   among their sorry tribe,
   with a gaze of regret
 ⁴ looks at the smoking streams and muses,
   bedimmed with rue: Why in the breast
   am I not wounded by a bullet?
   Why am I not a feeble oldster
 ⁸ like that poor farmer-general?
   Why like a councilman from Tula
   am I not lying paralyzed?
   Why in the shoulder do I not
¹² at least feel rheumatism? Ah, Lord,
   I'm young, life is robust in me,
   what have I to expect? Ennui, ennui!...

Onegin then visits the Tauris [Crimea]: