Eugene Onegin ( without commentary )

XXXV

And my Onegin? Half asleep, he drives from ball to bed, while indefatigable Petersburg 4 is roused already by the drum. The merchant's up, the hawker's out, the cabby to the hack stand drags, the Okhta girl hastes with her jug, 8 the morning snow creaks under her. Morn's pleasant hubbub has awoken, unclosed are shutters, chimney smoke ascends in a blue column, and the baker, 12 a punctual German in a cotton cap, has more than once already opened his vasisdas.