The poet to the peasant: Why do you choose,

Or rather, why, without ever knowing enough

To choose, do you buy for your family to use

Always the common gaudiest household stuff?

The peasant tot he poet: Why do you write

A bookful of words that no one ever said?

Why don't you give us something to recite?

And don't talk death so much. We'll all be dead.

The poet: I look beyond trivial facts for truth.

The peasant: I want fun a long time in my youth.

The poet and peasant, thinking aloud together:

It's about time we get some decent weather.

We want our meals when the hour to eat is right,

And a good warm place to sleep inside at night.