Oh! sore is the folly, consider it who will,
And full of peril for every person,
That wretched mortals utterly amazes,
And far from the right road rapidly leads
Have you the will to seek in the woodland
Bright red gold among green trees?
Well do I know that no wise man
Will seek it there, since there it is not,
Nor look in vineyards for lustrous gems.
Why do you not hang nets on the hill-tops
When you would fain fishes capture,
Salmon and herrings? It seems likely
That dwellers on earth, all of them, know,
Men of sense, that such live not there.
Will you go hunting, with hounds follow,
In the salt sea, when you would seek
Harts and hinds? Have you not knowledge
That such as these you must seek in forests
More often by far than out in ocean?
Marvellous it is that all men know
That by the sea-shore search must be made,
And by river-beaches, for brightest jewels,
White and crimson, and of every colour.
Yes, they know also where it is needful
Fishes to seek, and many such things,
The wealth of the world. Well they do so,
Men all yearning, year's end to year's end.
But of all things this is most wretched,
That fools have become so utterly blind,
In midst of error, that in mind they cannot
Readily tell where blessings eternal,
Happiness true, are hidden away,
For they will not follow in their footsteps
Nor seek the blessings; robbed of sense,
In this frail life they think to find it,
True Happiness, God Himself.
I know no means whereby I may
Within my breast blame as severely
Such men's folly, as fain I would do
Nor can I tell you with full clearness;
For they are feebler and more foolish,
More severed from blessing, than I can set forth.
Wealth and possessions, these they wish for,
And men's worship they are eager to win.
When they have compassed what their mind craves,
Then do they witless think in their folly
That True Happiness they have at last.