287Many tasks, indeed, lend themselves better to the cool night, or when the Morning Star bedews the earth at the new sun. 289At night light stubble, at night dry meadows are better mown; at night the clinging moisture does not fail. 291And one man keeps vigil late by the fire of a winter lamp, and points torches with a sharp knife; 293meanwhile his wife, soothing her long labour with song, runs through the web with the shrill comb, or boils down the liquid of sweet must over Vulcan's fire and skims with leaves the wave of the trembling cauldron. 297But ruddy Ceres is cut down in the midst of the heat, and in the midst of the heat the floor threshes the parched grain.
299Plough stripped, sow stripped; 299winter is idle for the farmer. 300In the cold, farmers mostly enjoy what they have gained, and gladly give feasts to one another in turn. 302Festive winter invites them and dispels their cares, as when laden keels have at last reached port and the joyful sailors have set garlands on the sterns. 305But even so it is then time to strip the acorns of the oak and laurel berries and olives and blood-red myrtle, then to set snares for cranes and nets for stags and to chase the long-eared hares, then to shoot down the does, whirling the hempen thongs of the Balearic sling, when the snow lies deep, when the rivers push the ice along.