Twisting River
II
Every day back from dawn court I pawn my springtime clothes,
and each day from the riverside I go home utterly drunk.
My debts for ale are commonplace everywhere I go,
for a man to live to seventy has always been quite rare.
Threading through flowers, butterflies appear deep within,
specks on water, dragonflies wing on so leisurely.
My message to spring’s bright weather—let us roll along together,
let us not miss enjoyment’s brief span.