Letters without virtue, are pearls in the dunghill
It is like delicacies in the food of pigs
When writing we must have virtue, so that it
Turn what we say into delicacies of the gods

But many write and speak beautifully, but
Inside they are tombs that smell bad, so
Rotting they have, and there are those who are left
Carry by the verbiage of these, and fight to defend them

Letters without virtue, are pearls in the dunghill
It is like delicacies in the food of pigs
When writing we must have virtue, so that it
Turn what we say into delicacies of the gods

Gentlemen, let us write with our hearts, that he does not lie
And let us purify ourselves so that the words are clean
And willing to fit into the heart of the reader, but
Above all, let us live what we write in order to write
From our experiences

Letters without virtue, are pearls in the dunghill
It is like delicacies in the food of pigs
When writing we must have virtue, so that it
Turn what we say into delicacies of the gods