The weather at last is turning mild
Swinging my staff
   I set off for a spring outing
Streams burble in the valleys and gorges
Mountains and forests ring
   with the trilling of birds
I may go walking with a monk
Stop at a friend's and rest a while
There's nothing like this life of mine
A boat that's slipped its moorings
   bobbing on the waves.
	- Ryokan