Young men, go and run to the fields.

Young men, go and run to the fields.

Take the money in your pocket and give it to someone to hold.

Tell your stresses and anxieties that you have lost all interest.

Tie your shoes tightly and pack away your favorite book.

For, where you are going there is time enough to sit and be still.

There is time enough to enjoy a horizon and a few good words.

Young men, go and cling to the cliff of the mightiest grace.

Remove your gloves and invite scars to join you.

Hold tightly to the handfulls of dirt, they worshipped before you were made.

Find a place to sit on the mountainside and rest easy.

Ponder the things that have no end.

Try and spot the face of the sun if you are able.

Young men, go and think of your love fondest.

Tell her how coarse the rungs of the latter were when lifting him from the wood.

Retell her the tale of when you spoke with him on the beach of the sea.

Remind her everyday that someone deep under the river rocks calls her name.

And that, for now, she will have to holdfast to hope and love and goodness.

Let her press her bear foot upon your thigh to help her over the wall.

Young men, stand next to your brethren and hold fast.

Hold fast to the conviction of eternity and speak it often.

In tempestuous moments grab one another by the nape and don't release.

The standard of which to be held must be one of unobtainable grandeur.

For, by this, your humility may still have a chance to remain intact.

Grieve with each other, by this you will knit hearts and souls together.

Young men, go and run to the fields.

Go and be nearest to something that you cannot understand.

Go and lose yourself to something that is larger than yourself.

Go and become something that the world will not recognize.

Go and be the freest of men by giving up all.

Go and run to the fields.