Onegin Off Again

You wrote to me
Don't deny it. I have read
The avowal of a trusting heart,
The outpouring of an innocent love;
Your candour touched me deeply
it has stirred
Feelings long since dormant.
I won't commend you for this,
But I will repay you
With an equally guileless avowal.
Hear my confession,
Then judge me as you will
If I had wished to pass my life
Within the confines of the family circle,
And a kindly fate had decreed for me
The role of husband and father,
Then, most like, I would not choose
Any other bride than you.
But I was not made for wedded bliss,
It is foreign to my soul,
Your perfections are vain,
I am quite unworthy of them.
Believe me, I give you my word,
Marriage would be a torment for us.
No matter how much I loved you,
Habit would kill that love.
Judge what a thorny bed of roses
Hymen would prepare for us,
And, perhaps, to be endured at length!
One cannot renew my soul!
I love you with a brother's love,
A brother's love
Or, perhaps, more than that!
Perhaps, perhaps more than that!
Listen to me without getting angry,
More than once will a girl exchange
One passing fancy for another.

- Tchaikovsky, "Eugene Onegin" (Vi Mne Pisali)