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