(A scene of a night on the same theme)
Get up. Get up. My friend, quit your book;
Or you must grow twice as long:
Get up. Get up. My friend, clean up your appearance;
Why is it so hard and troublesome?
The sun on the top of the mountain,
Fresh and mellow luster.
Through all the green fields,
His first sweet yellow night.
Books! This is a dull and endless struggle;
Come, listen to the woodland cardinals,
How sweet his music is! Swear on my life,
There is more wisdom in it.
Listen! How happy the throat sings!
He is not a stingy missionary;
Appear in the light of things,
Let nature be your teacher.
She has a lot of ready-made wealth,
Our thoughts and hearts to bless
Wisdom brought by health,
Happiness breathes the truth.
An impulse from the spring Woods
Might teach you more people,
The evil and the good of morality,
More than all saints.
The knowledge brought by nature is sweet;
Our nosy wisdom
Distort the beautiful form of things:
We murder autopsies.
Enough science and art;
Put away those bare leaves;
Come out with a heart.
Watch and receive.