I probably butchered modern English language, especially in the second part, but here you are:

Oh, cold poverty, and restless love,
You wreck my peace between you;
Yet poverty is all I could forgive,
If it were not for my Jeanie.
Oh why should Fate have such pleasure,
Untwining life's dearest bands?
Oh why such a sweet flower as love
Depends on Fortune's shining?

The world's wealth, when I think on it,
Is pride and all the rest of it;
Oh, shame on silly coward man,
That he should be the slave of it!
Her eyes, so prettily blue, betray
How she repays my passion;
But prudence is always her refrain,
She talks of rank and fashion.

Oh who can prudence think upon,
And such a girl beside him?
Oh who can prudence think upon,
And so in love as I am?
How blessed is the simple cottar's fate! (cottar = батрак)
He woos his artless dear;
The silly ghosts of wealth and state,
Can never make him scared,

The word order is almost Russian in this poem. )