With lots of love,
to my precious Bliss, to my dear Mella, to all my friends and all poetry lovers, one of Pushkin's masterpieces, part of his amazing novel "Evgeny Onegin":

Tatyana's letter to Onegin.

I write this to you - what more can be said?
What more can I add to that one fact?
For now I know it is in your power
To punish me contemptuously for this act.
But you, keeping for my unhappy lot
Even one drop of sympathy
Will not entirely abandon me.
At first I wished to remain silent;
Believe me, my shame, my agony,
You never ever would have heard.
As long as hope remained preserved


That rarely, even once a week,
I'd see you in our country house,
To hear your voice, to hear you speak,
To say a few words, and then, and then
To think, and think, and think again
All day, all night, until the next meeting.
But it is said you are unsociable,
And in this backwater all is tedious to you,
While we… well here we shine at nothing,
Although we're glad to welcome you.

Why did you come to visit us?
In this forgotten rural home
Your face I never would have known
Nor known this bitter suffering.
The fever of inexperience
In time (who can tell?) would have died down,
And I'd have found another lover,
Dear to my heart, to whom I'd be true,
And a loving wife, and virtuous mother.

Another!… No, no one on this earth
Is there to whom I'd give my heart!
That is ordained by highest fate…
That is heaven's will - that I am yours;
My life till now was but a pledge,
Of meeting with you, a forward image;
You were sent by heaven of that I'm sure,
To the grave itself you are my saviour…
In dreams you have appeared to me,
Though yet unseen, I held you dear,
Your glance and strangeness tortured me,
To my soul your voice was loud and clear
From long ago… It was not a dream!
You came, and I knew that very instant,
I was struck dumb, my heart flared up,
And in my thoughts said "He is the one!"
Is it not true? I heard you often:
In the silence did you not speak to me,
Both when I helped the poor, and when
With prayer I sought to ease and soften
The pain inside my anguished head?
And at this very moment, is it not you,
Oh sweetest, lovely vision who
In the night's transparency flits by
And quietly nestles by the bed's head?
And you, who with love and rapturously
Whispered a word of hope to me?

Who are you, my guardian angel?
Or a wily devil, a tempter fatal?
Disperse these doubts, this agony.
Perhaps all this is nothingness,
A foolish mind's self-aberration,
And something other is fate's decree…
So be it! Whatever my destiny,
To you I give it from this day,
Before you the tears roll down my cheek,
And your protection I beseech…
For consider: here I am alone,
No one understands what I say,
My reason tortures me every day,
And silently I am doomed to perish.
You I await: With a single glance
Revive the hope that's in my heart,
Cut short this heavy dream I cherish,
Deserving, I know, reproach and scorn.

I finish - I tremble to read it through,
With shame and terror my heart sinks low,
But your honour is my guarantee
And to that I entrust my destiny.


I'm sure that Russian original and Turkish translation will follow as well.

For those who are interested in reading whole "Evgeny Onegin", here's link:

http://www.pushkins-poems.com/index.htm

Thanks to you all for sharing such wonderful poetry - heavenly

TO ALL CLASSMATES WHO ARE CELEBRATING:
MARRY CHRISTMAS, LOTS OF LOVE, HEALTH, SUCCESS, JOY AND HAPPINES!
MAY ALL YOUR CHRISTMAS DREAMS COME TRUE!

As I promised, here's Russian original:

ПИСЬМО ТАТЬЯНЫ К ОНЕГИНУ

Я к вам пишу - чего же боле?
Что я могу еще сказать?
Теперь, я знаю, в вашей воле
Меня презреньем наказать.
Но вы, к моей несчастной доле
Хоть каплю жалости храня,
Вы не оставите меня.
Сначала я молчать хотела;
Поверьте: моего стыда
Вы не узнали б никогда,
Когда б надежду я имела
Хоть редко, хоть в неделю раз
В деревне нашей видеть вас,
Чтоб только слышать ваши речи,
Вам слово молвить, и потом
Все думать, думать об одном
И день и ночь до новой встречи.
Но, говорят, вы нелюдим;
В глуши, в деревне все вам скучно,
А мы... ничем мы не блестим,
Хоть вам и рады простодушно.

Зачем вы посетили нас?
В глуши забытого селенья
Я никогда не знала б вас,
Не знала б горького мученья.
Души неопытной волненья
Смирив со временем (как знать?),
По сердцу я нашла бы друга,
Была бы верная супруга
И добродетельная мать.

Другой!.. Нет, никому на свете
Не отдала бы сердца я!
То в вышнем суждено совете...
То воля неба: я твоя;
Вся жизнь моя была залогом
Свиданья верного с тобой;
Я знаю, ты мне послан богом,
До гроба ты хранитель мой...
Ты в сновиденьях мне являлся
Незримый, ты мне был уж мил,
Твой чудный взгляд меня томил,
В душе твой голос раздавался
Давно... нет, это был не сон!
Ты чуть вошел, я вмиг узнала,
Вся обомлела, запылала
И в мыслях молвила: вот он!
Не правда ль? я тебя слыхала:
Ты говорил со мной в тиши,
Когда я бедным помогала
Или молитвой услаждала
Тоску волнуемой души?
И в это самое мгновенье
Не ты ли, милое виденье,
В прозрачной темноте мелькнул,
Приникнул тихо к изголовью?
Не ты ль, с отрадой и любовью,
Слова надежды мне шепнул?
Кто ты, мой ангел ли хранитель,
Или коварный искуситель:
Мои сомненья разреши.
Быть может, это все пустое,
Обман неопытной души!
И суждено совсем иное...
Но так и быть! Судьбу мою
Отныне я тебе вручаю,
Перед тобою слезы лью,
Твоей защиты умоляю...
Вообрази: я здесь одна,
Никто меня не понимает,
Рассудок мой изнемогает,
И молча гибнуть я должна.
Я жду тебя: единым взором
Надежды сердца оживи
Иль сон тяжелый перерви,
Увы, заслуженным укором!

Кончаю! Страшно перечесть...
Стыдом и страхом замираю...
Но мне порукой ваша честь,
И смело ей себя вверяю...

This is the link for those who would like to read "Onegin" in Russian
http://www.friends-partners.org/friends/literature/19century/pushkin25.html(opt,mozilla,pc,russian,koi8,new)

Now we need Turkish translation. Cyrano, my friend?

Oh, thank you, thank you so much, Cyrano
What would we do without you and your precious help!

Hello guys,
I don't know how to thank you, believe me.It is very nice to see Pushkin in TC.I appreciate your job, Cyrano because I was thinking to find the turkish translation, even Slavica asked you.And you know why? Because I was late to post in russian, as she asked, and she did it.Thank you sestrichka.I have to think about my contribution here.Maybe it will take little time, just few days but I promise to do it for both of you and my russian friends too.Be little patient, please.
With my best wishes to you.

Hello,
Here is some information for you.It might be interesting for you.

Onegin is one of the classics of Russian literature; it served as the model for a number of Russian literary heroes.

The work was made into an 1879 opera, Eugene Onegin, by Tchaikovsky. A staged version was produced in the USSR in 1936 with staging by Alexander Tairov and incidental music by Sergei Prokofiev. In 1999 a film version was made by Martha Fiennes, starring Ralph Fiennes and Liv Tyler.

The full text translated into English can be found at: [translated by Johnston] http://lib.ru/LITRA/PUSHKIN/ENGLISH/onegin_j.txt [another translation] http://www.poetryloverspage.com/yevgeny/pushkin/evgeny_onegin.html

My dearest classmates!
HAPPY NEW YEAR

I want to wish each one of you
A prosperous, healthy New Year.
At midnight before the new day dawns,
Let's fill our hearts with cheer.

Then as the new year begins for us,
Let's pray to God above,
To rid our planet of wars and strife,
And fill ALL our hearts with love.


And this is for my russian classmates:


NOVOGODNIE POJELANIYA

Vot stishok moy novogodniy,
Pojelayu vam segodnya:

V Yanvare luchey Aprelya,
Chtobi vas poluchshe greli.

Chtobi vetri chashe duli -
Da ne v Marte, a v Iyule.

Chtobi den' vash bil bez nochi
Ili noch' bila koroche.

Chtobi v more dni i godi
Ne bivalo nepogodi.

Chtob ves' god ne znali draki
Vashi koshki i sobaki.

Chtobi skolko khleb ne rejem,
Bil on myagkim, bil on svejim.

Chtobi slivkami fontani
Napolnyali vam stakani.

Esli eto slishkom mnogo,
Ne sudite slishkom strogo.

A nagradi mne ne nado.
Vasha radost -- mne nagrada!

S Novim Godom!

Hello, my dear friends, poetry lovers

I want to remind you to an event, happened 80 years ago: in the night of December 27/28, 1925 great Russian poet Sergey Esenin hanged himself in the Hotel d'Angleterre in Leningrad. Day before his death, Esenin slashed his wrists and wrote with his own blood his farewell poem.

Goodbye, My Friend, Goodbye

Good-bye, my friend, good-bye.
My dear one, you are in my breast.
This predestined parting
Promises a meeting ahead.

Good-bye, my friend, without hand, without word
No sorrow and no sadness in the brow.
In this life, dying is nothing new,
But living, of course, isn't novel either.

(Sergey YESENIN,Translated by Geoffrey Hurley)


AYRILIK ŞİİRİ

HoşÃ§akal, dostum, hoşÃ§akal, mutluluklar.
Sevgili dostum, yüreğimde yaşayacak anın,
Sonunda ayrılık yazgısı olsa da insanın.
HoşÃ§akal dediğimiz gibi buluşmak da var.

HoşÃ§akal, dostum, el sıkışmadan, suskunlukla
Sakın üzülme, nedir bu gözlerindeki hüzün?
Şu yaşamda yeni bir şey değil ki ölüm,
Ama pek öyle yeni sayılmaz yaşamak da.

(Çeviren: Ataol Behramoğlu)


* * *

До свиданья, друг мой, до свиданья.
Милый мой, ты у меня в груди.
Предназначенное расставанье
Обещает встречу впереди.

До свиданья, друг мой, без руки, без слова,
Не грусти и не печаль бровей,-
В этой жизни умирать не ново,
Но и жить, конечно, не новей.
1925

This poem is, in the same time, my farewell from you, my dear friends. I decided not to post threads about World literature anymore, and to try to give my contribution at Turkish Class the other ways.
Thank you all for your cooperation and support.
Wishing you all the best in new 2006 year, I hope we'll meet again at some more suitable place.
With all my love,
Slavica

Oh! It looks as pretty suitable place, don't you think, my precious friends

Boop, welcome to the club of poetry lovers

Well...Seems everybody liked Tatyana and her letter to Onegin. So I decided to continue the story.
... Onegin refused Tatyana's love and left the village. But he met her again after couple of years. Shy, poor and simple village girl became beautiful princess, "unapproachable goddess". Onegin felt in love... It was his turn in writting letters...

Letter of Onegin to Tatyana


I foresee all: how the revelation
Of my sad secret will cause offence.
For what a bitter condemnation
Is revealed within your haughty glance!
What do I wish for? And with what aim
Do I open up my soul to you?
And to your spiteful mocking laughter
Perhaps giving cause I'll rue hereafter.

In the past having met you quite by chance,
Seeing in you that spark of tenderness
I did not dare to entrust myself
To it, and shrugged off the sweet romance;
Besides, my repellent liberty
I did not wish then to abandon.
And yet another thing came to part us...
A most stupid sacrifice, poor Lensky ...
From all things that to my heart were dear,
I then had wrenched my heart away;
A stranger to all, bound to no one,
I thought to myself: freedom and rest
Are better than all that happiness.
My God! My God! How was I mistaken!
And how has the heart within me been stricken!

No, no! Each minute to have a glimpse
Of you, to follow you everywhere,
To catch with my adoring eyes,
The smile of your mouth, your looks, your hair;
Only to listen to you, and to understand
In my very soul your complete perfection,
Before you to suffer my crucifixion,
To grow pale, and perish... Ah, that is bliss!

But that is denied me: only for you,
I drag myself hopefully everywhere;
The day is precious, and the hour too,
But I waste in boredom's cruel vanity
The days which by fate are allotted me.
They are such a weary misery!
I know that my days are numbered already,
But in order to give them some small scope
I must in the morning be assured
Of seeing you each day, and of having your word...

I fear that this my humble prayer
By your fierce eye may be construed
As but a cunning trick to lure
You, and I hear your angry sneer.
But if you knew, how terrible
Is the torture of love's rabidness,
To burn ― and yet with reason's curb
To staunch the blood-letting in the soul;
To wish to fall and embrace your knees,
And sobbing, head upon your feet,
To pour forth prayers, confessions, pleas,
All, all, that words can yet control,
Although meanwhile with pretended coldness
To fortify ones looks and speech,
To hold a reasonable conversation,
And look on you with suppressed elation!...

Yet so be it: no longer have I
The strength to fight against this foe;
The die is cast, I am at your mercy,
I submit to my fate, be it yes or no.