Worse than an idyl and colder than an ode,

A misanthrope – by Hell, by Silliness – a bard –

In what a terrible and quite mischievous mode

Has Nature raised her ugly ward!

You are afraid of men, as of some deathly illness,

Oh, miserable sample of the appalling dream!

Be joyuos, evil fool! You will be ne’er sun-beamed

By love or friendship through existence.

                                            1815-1816

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, March 28, 2005