Взял треснувшую лютню мизантроп,
Пошёл, и у канавы сел,
И песню, так похожую на вопль,
Пронзительно про стерву спел.
Послесловие:
Percy Bysshe Shelley
A Hate-Song
A hater he came and sat by a ditch,
And he took an old cracked lute;
And he sang a song which was more of a screech
''Against a woman that was a brute.