#extracts

Tatiana dreams a portentous dream.
She dreams: it seems to her that she has set out
all alone through a snowy field,
in a sad, sinking fog;
and behold, among the snow, bubbling
with waves and foam, dark, a great torrent
suddenly appears before her,
not yet frozen. Only a bridge
of poles, rotten and wavering,
chained by ice, served
to pass from one bank to the other,
through that roaring vortex.
Tatiana stopped, her gaze fixed,
perplexed and frightened, upon the abyss.

Pushkin, Evgenij Onegin