The busy man subjects himself to many labours,
There the labour ends for the beginning of more.
I myself want to return to the wondrous ways,
And sharply say my luck has revived.
Then the turning point of my career has arrived
Forcing me downwards into more enchantment
So that labouring was something of the very past.
Business of the day regulated by me,
I gather the fruits and crops at harvest time,
And scatter my worthy pennies and pounds
At those whose luck is atrocious.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem