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5月13日
You ask if you shall send me books. My dear friend, I beseech you, for the love of God, relieve me from such a yoke! I need no more to be guided, agitated, heated. My heart ferments sufficiently of itself. I want strains to lull me, and I find them to perfection in my Homer. Often do I strive to allay the burning fever of my blood; and you have never witnessed anything so unsteady, so uncertain, as my heart. But need I confess this to you, my dear friend, who have so often endured the anguish of witnessing my sudden transitions from sorrow to immoderate joy, and from sweet melancholy to violent passions? I treat my poor heart like a sick child, and gratify its every fancy. Do not mention this again: there are people who would censure me for it.
你问我是否需要寄书来。我亲爱的朋友，我恳求你看在上帝的份上，千万不要拿这些东西来烦扰我！我已经不再需要什么指导、鼓舞或是激励了。我的心已经很不平静了。我需要诗歌使我安静下来，而且我已在荷马史诗中找到了它们。我常常低声吟诵那些诗歌，试图让我那沸腾的热血冷静下来，因为像我这般变幻莫测、捉摸不定的心，你还从未见过呢。我亲爱的朋友，你看着我从苦闷变为放纵，由甜蜜的忧伤转为澎湃的激情，你忍受着多大的痛苦啊，这还用我向你忏悔吗？我把我那颗可怜的心当成了一个生病的孩子，任其随心所欲。不要跟别人谈起此事了，否则准会有人责怪我的。