Е. Онегин, ч. 1, X-XI - пер. А. С. Пушкина

X
Since early times he was a liar,
Hiding his hope, being jealous.
He dissuaded, forced to trust far,
Looked gloomy, languishing in manners.
He was once proud, then obedient,
One time attentive, then indifferent!
How reasonably he was silent,
How flammable was his speech style,
How careless were the heart letters!
The only one he breathed and loved,
He could forget his self this time!
How looks of him were fast and tender,
Sometimes- were modest, then- impudent,
Sometimes - flashed with a tear dutiful!

XI
How he could seem to be of new kind,
With joke innocence to strike,
With his despair all to frighten,
With mere flattery to fun.
And to catch moment of touching,
Prejudices of youth, as mountains,
With mind and passion to get over,
To wait the unexpected fondling,
To crave and to demand confession,
To hear the first beat of heart,
To chase invincibly his love,
And suddenly to get the gesture
For secret rendezvous, and later
To give her in a silence lesson!