Work
　　Then a ploughman said, "Speak to us of Work."

　　And he answered, saying:

　　You work that you may keep pace with the earth and the soul of the earth.

　　For to be idle is to become a stranger unto the seasons, and to step out of life's procession, that marches in majesty and proud submission towards the infinite.

　　When you work you are a flute through whose heart the whispering of the hours turns to music.

　　Which of you would be a reed, dumb and silent, when all else sings together in unison?

　　Always you have been told that work is a curse and labour a misfortune.

　　But I say to you that when you work you fulfil a part of earth's furthest dream, assigned to you when that dream was born,

　　And in keeping yourself with labour you are in truth loving life,

　　And to love life through labour is to be intimate with life's inmost secret.

　　But if you in your pain call birth an affliction and the support of the flesh a curse written upon your brow, then I answer that naught but the sweat of your brow shall wash away that which is written.

　　You have been told also life is darkness, and in your weariness you echo what was said by the weary.

　　And I say that life is indeed darkness save when there is urge,

　　And all urge is blind save when there is knowledge,

　　And all knowledge is vain save when there is work,

　　And all work is empty save when there is love;

　　And when you work with love you bind yourself to yourself, and to one another, and to God.

　　And what is it to work with love?

　　It is to weave the cloth with threads drawn from your heart, even as if your beloved were to wear that cloth.

　　It is to build a house with affection, even as if your beloved were to dwell in that house.

　　It is to sow seeds with tenderness and reap the harvest with joy, even as if your beloved were to eat the fruit.

　　It is to charge all things you fashion with a breath of your own spirit,

　　And to know that all the blessed dead are standing about you and watching.

　　Often have I heard you say, as if speaking in sleep, "he who works in marble, and finds the shape of his own soul in the stone, is a nobler than he who ploughs the soil.

　　And he who seizes the rainbow to lay it on a cloth in the likeness of man, is more than he who makes the sandals for our feet."

　　But I say, not in sleep but in the over-wakefulness of noontide, that the wind speaks not more sweetly to the giant oaks than to the least of all the blades of grass;

　　And he alone is great who turns the voice of the wind into a song made sweeter by his own loving.

　　Work is love made visible.

　　And if you cannot work with love but only with distaste, it is better that you should leave your work and sit at the gate of the temple and take alms of those who work with joy.

　　For if you bake bread with indifference, you bake a bitter bread that feeds but half man's hunger.

　　And if you grudge the crushing of the grapes, your grudge distils a poison in the wine.

　　And if you sing though as angels, and love not the singing, you muffle man's ears to the voices of the day and the voices of the night.

　　劳作

　　一位农夫说，请为我们谈谈劳作。

　　他答道：

　　你们劳作，故能与大地和大地的精神同步。

　　你们慵懒，就会变为季节的生客，落伍于生命的行列；那行列正带着庄严豪迈和骄傲的顺从向永恒前进。

　　劳作时你们便是一管笛，时间的低语通过你的心化作音乐。

　　你们中谁愿做一根芦苇，当万物齐声合唱时，惟独自己沉寂无声？

　　总有人对你们说：工作是一种诅咒，劳动是一种不幸。

　　但我要对你们说：当你们工作时，你们便实现了大地一部分最悠远的梦想，在梦想成形之初，这部分便已分派给你，

　　你们辛勤劳动，便是真正热爱生命，

　　在劳动中热爱生命，便是通晓了生命最深的秘密。

　　然而，如果你们在痛苦中把降生称作折磨，把维持肉体生存当成写在额头的诅咒，那麽我要回答，只有你们额头上的汗水，才能洗去那些字迹。

　　也总有人对你们说生活是黑暗的，你们疲惫时重复疲惫者的语

　　而我说生活的确是黑暗的，除非有了渴望，

　　所有渴望都是盲目的，除非有了知识，

　　一切知识都是徒然的，除非有了工作，

　　所有工作都是空虚的，除非有了爱；

　　当你们带著爱工作时，你们就与自己、与他人、与上帝会为一体。

　　什麼是带著爱工作？

　　是用你心中的丝线织布缝衣，彷佛你的至爱将穿上这衣服。

　　是带著热情建房筑屋，彷佛你的至爱将居住其中。

　　是带著深情播种，带著喜悦收获，彷佛你的至爱将品尝果实。

　　是将你灵魂的气息注入你的所有制品。

　　是意识到所有受福的逝者都在身边注视著你。

　　我常听你们梦中吃语般地说："雕刻大理石，在石中找到自己灵魂形象的人，比耕田的农夫高贵。

　　"捕捉彩虹，用虹霞在一方织物上绘出人的形象的人比制鞋的人高明。"

　　但是我要说，——不是在睡梦中，而是在正午格外清醒中说：风对高大橡树说话时的声音，并不比它对纤细草叶说话时更甜蜜，

　　一个人若能把风声变为歌声，又能用自己的爱使之变得更加甜美，他才是伟大的。

　　劳动就是有形可见的爱。

　　假如你们无法带著爱劳动而只觉厌烦，那麼你们不如放弃劳作，坐在殿宇的门前，等待以劳动为乐的人给你们施舍。

　　假如你们毫无热情地焙制面包，那麼你们烤出的面包将会变苦，只能使人半饱。

　　假如你们勉为其难地压榨葡萄，那麼你们的忿懑就在葡萄酒中滴入了毒液。 假如你们纵能如天使般歌唱却并不爱歌唱，那麼你们就堵塞了人们聆听日夜之声的耳朵。