Part I
Dear Child, stay beneath the boughs of shelter;
Stay awhile, until you can no more.
It shall not be your will but your fortune
That which inclines you outdoors.
When you stray towards your own path,
Unaided and wary,
Indifferent to the ways of the world,
There will be no time to question;
No qualms to settle
Between open liberty and cultural order.
But where experience lies stagnant,
Constraint and loneliness take root.
