Over
the green and yellow rice-fields sweep the shadows of the autumn clouds
followed by the swift-chasing sun.
The
bees forget to sip their honey; drunken with light they foolishly hover
and hum.
The
ducks in the islands of the river clamour in joy for mere nothing.
Let
none go back home, brothers, this morning, let none go to work.
Let
us take the blue sky by storm and plunder space as we run.
Laughter
floats in the air like foam on the flood.
Brothers,
let us squander our morning in futile songs.