Only think the unthought
Or else your brain will rot
Follow not any crowd
Over your eyes will be the shroud
Speak rarely and with wit
Your enemies will submit
Be industrious in your works
You'll evade uncertainty that lurks
Trust nobody with any secret
They will prove to be a hypocrite

Lovely trees can be firewood
But for that, they aren't especially good
The beauty will bring bitter tears
And the planter's heart beats no more.