The twenty-seventh of the Third Month, the sky at dawn was hazed over, and observing the pale soft light of the moon as it faded from the sky, I looked beyond to where the peak of Mount Fuji rose dimly in the sky, and then nearer to hand from Ueno to Yanaka, wondering when I would again see these cherry blossoms. I felt a heaviness of heart. Everyone with whom I was on close terms assembled the night before I was to leave and saw me off on the boat. As I was landing at a place called Senju, my heart was burdened by the thought of the many miles stretching ahead, and my tears fell over such a parting on the illusory path of this world.

With spring leaving
The birds cry out regret, the fish
Have tears in their eyes.

That poem marked the beginning of the pilgrimage, but it was difficult to set forth. There were all my frieds gathered to see me off and apparently prepared to stand there till they saw the last of my back vanish down the road.