Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

XLIII

But not now. Though with all my heart I love my hero 5 though I'll return to him, of course; 4 but now I am not in the mood for him. The years to austere prose incline, the years chase pranksome rhyme away, and I-with a sigh I confess- 8 more indolently dangle after her. My pen has not its ancient disposition to mar with scribblings fleeting leaves; other chill dreams, 1 2 other stern cares, both in the social hum and in the still disturb my soul's sleep.