Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

262
Chapter Seven
IV

Now is the time: good lazybones, epicurean sages; you, equanimous fortunates; 4 you, fledglings of the Lyovshin41 school; you, country Priams; and sentimental ladies, you; spring calls you to the country, 8 season of warmth, of flowers, of labors, of inspired rambles, and of seductive nights.

Friends! to the fields, quick, quick; 12 in heavy loaden chariots; with your own horses or with posters; out of the towngates start to trek!

V

And you, indulgent reader, in your imported calash, leave the indefatigable city 4 where in the winter you caroused; let's go with my capricious Muse to hear the murmur of a park above a nameless river, in the country place, 8 where my Eugene, an idle and despondent recluse, but recently dwelt in the winter, in the neighborhood of youthful Tanya, 12 of my dear dreamer; but where he is no longer now… where a sad trace he left.