I’ve stopped over to rest in a deep wooded dale,

Sitting before an old fisher who harks to my tale.

“In this life I've been baseborn as a peasant’s son;

Establishing myself, I'm trying to be honest and,

What’s more, my words do nothing with flattery

And boast of the nobles. Protecting my good self,

I don’t touch silk or jade; therefore, trust me, sir,

I harbour the true Mani Pearl within my chest. . .”

He says: “There's no need in fighting men’s vices—

What is the use of striking men by a sage’s merits?

When there is the time to cast a net out, cast it out;

When there is the time to roll a net up, roll it up!

A handsome income increases anxiety higher,

A leisurely talk creates easier a meeting of minds.”

Upon hearing this, I start to contemplate and

Arrive at a conclusion of mine that even an old hermit

Somehow but determinates himself. . . But how

Can I float idly with such a freeman of a sort? . .

As far as my eyes can reach, the length and breadth,

Wild ducks and geese are all drifted by the waves.