Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

Chapter One
XXXII

Diana's bosom, Flora's cheeks, are charming, dear friends! Nevertheless, for me something about it makes more charming the small foot of Terpsichore. By prophesying to the gaze an unpriced recompense, with token beauty it attracts the willful swarm of desires. I like it, dear Elvina, beneath the long napery of tables, in springtime on the turf of meads, in winter on the hearth's cast iron, on mirrory parquet of halls, by the sea on granite of rocks.