But whom to love?
Whom you’d be trusting?
Who’s that, which never us betrays?
Who’s helpfully for us adjusting His own deeds and when he prays,
Who helps from slander not to perish?
Who carefully us can cherish?
To whom my vice is not a harm?
Who never bores us by his charm?
By those phantoms he, vain seeker, Should not in vain exhaust himself:
You first of alt must love yourself, My dear venerable reader!
Such subject’s worthy of your mind: More gentle never you will find.
He was beloved... at least was grateful
To have such hope like a balm.
A hundred times is blessed, who’s faithful.
But even such a friendship, readers,
We haven’t now; each of us
Without prejudice considers
The others oils but us as ones.
Explanation:
About Vladimir Lensky.
Again to waste his day already.
His life’s monotonous and is mixed,
The same for many days is fixed.
I prize my hours, my days:
But I’m in idle boredom wasting
By fate all counted my days.
The less we love a woman
the easier 'tis to be liked by her,
and thus more surely we undo her
amid seductive toils
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