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.