What crass, abysmal ignorance! Forlorn!
Despite his looks, the man must be half-witted!
They gasped for air; they gazed on him in scorn,
And tried to think of epithets that fitted.
Clown! Dolt! Unlettered oaf! And yet, some spark
Of clear intelligence seemed in his bearing.
Men called him clever! But his one remark
His only one - had left them gaping, staring!
Long had they argued: first this one, then that,
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem