于是一个农夫说，请给我们谈工作。
他回答说：
你工作为的是要与大地和大地的精神一同前进。
因为情逸使你成为一个时代的生客，一个生命大队中的落伍者，这大队是庄严的，高傲而服从的，向着无穷前进。
在你工作的时候，你是一管笛，从你心中吹出时光的微语，变成音乐。
你们谁肯做一根芦管，在万物合唱的时候，你独痴呆无声呢？
你们常听人说，工作是祸殃，劳动是不幸。
我却对你们说，你们工作的时候，你们完成了大地深远的梦之一部，他指示你那梦是从何时开头的。
而在你劳动不息的时候，你确实爱了生命。
在工作里爱了生命，就是通彻了生命最深的秘密。
倘然在你的辛苦里，将有身之苦恼和养身之诅咒，写上你的眉间，则我将回答你，只有你眉间的汗，能洗去这些字句。
你们也听见人说，生命是黑暗的。在你疲劳之中，你附和了那疲劳的人所说的话。
我说生命的确是黑暗的，除非是有了激励；
一切的知识都是徒然的，除非是有了工作；
一切的工作都是空虚的，除非是有了爱。
当你仁爱地工作的时候，你便与自己、与人类、与上帝联系为一。
怎样才是仁爱的工作呢？
从你的心中抽丝织成布帛，仿佛你的爱者要来穿此衣裳。
热情地盖造房屋，仿佛你的爱者要住在其中。
温存地播种，欢乐地收刈，仿佛你的爱者要来吃这产物。
这就是用你自己灵魂的气息，来充满你所制造的一切。
要知道一切受福的古人，都在你上头看视着。
我常听见你们仿佛在梦中说：“那在蜡石上表现出他自己灵魂的形象的人，是比耕地的人高贵多了。
那捉住虹霓，传神地画在布帛上的人，是比织履的人强多了。”
我却要说，不在梦中，而在正午清醒的时候，风对大橡树说话的声音，并不比对纤小的草叶所说的更甜柔。
只有那用他的爱心，把风声变成甜柔的歌曲的人，是伟大的。
工作是眼能看见的爱。
倘若你不是欢乐地却厌恶地工作，那还不如撇下工作，坐在大殿的门边，去乞求那些欢乐地工作的人的周济。
倘若你无精打采地烤着面包，你烤成的面包是苦的，只能救半个人的饥饿。
你若是怨重地压榨着葡萄酒，你的怨望，在酒里滴下了毒液。
倘若你能像天使一般地唱，却不爱唱，那你就把人们能听到白天和黑夜的声音的耳朵都塞住了。
■ 听真理的并不弱于讲真理的人。
■ 生活是黑暗的，除非有了激励；一切激励是盲目的，除非有了知识；一切知识都是徒然的，除非有了工作；一切工作是虚空的，除非有了爱。
07
on 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.
