Full.

The night is fresh and cool,

Staff in hand I walk through the gate.

Wisteria and ivy grow together along the winding mountain path;

Birds sing quietly in their nests and a monkey howls nearby.

As I reach a high peak a village appears in the distance.

The old pines are full of poems;

I bend down for a drink of pure spring water.

There is a gentle breeze, and the round moon hangs overhead.

Standing by a deserted building,

I pretend to be a crane softly floating among the clouds ...

Ryokan