From today, Svetlana Surganova reads by heart the novel “Eugene Onegin” by Alexander Sergeyevich Pushkin!


     Heedless of the proud world’s enjoyment,
     I prize the attention of my friends,
     and only wish that my employment
     could have been turned to worthier ends —
     worthier of you in the perfection
     your soul displays, in holy dreams,
     in simple but sublime reflection,
     in limpid verse that lives and gleams.
     But, as it is, this pied collection
     begs your indulgence — it’s been spun
     from threads both sad and humoristic,
     themes popular or idealistic,
     products of carefree hours, of fun,
     of sleeplessness, faint inspirations,
     of powers unripe, or on the wane,
     of reason’s icy intimations,
     and records of a heart in pain.

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