|About the self here have no talk, O bard,|
Because with schools such sermons don't accord.
Much good that birds that chirp may not descry,
The modes of hawk, its state and rank so high!
A free man's breath can match a subject year,
How slowly moves the time of serfs, is clear!
The free perform such deeds in span of breath,
But slaves are every instant prone to sudden death.
The thoughts of persons free with truth are lit,
But thoughts of slaves do not own sense a bit.
A slave has craze for marvels wrought by guides
Himself a wonder 'live, his memory fresh abides.
This is the training that befits them well,
Painting, music and science of plants as well.