I have now made up my mind—

I cannot be rolled up any further.

You should know that

I am not a mat to be rolled out

At someone’s own sweet will!

Loafing around, I arrived

At this remote highland;

Bathing in the sun glare,

All alone I recline on

A huge and uneven stone.

Eloquent messengers come

To urge me to climb down,

Inviting me to accept a packet

And profitable conditions

Awaiting for me in the lowland.

Digging holes in the walls and

For me, is not different from

Catching the wind in a net. . .

I do prefer to drag my feet along

About the slippery rocks,

Snow-covered slopes and

Marshy quag, enjoying my self.