The verse

The old clouds lift from the bingshen hills at dawnChase not the drifting blossoms past the ridgeTurn back to the green peak, seek your native gorgeFrom the deep roots the spring runs on, unbidden

Reading

A most auspicious slip, yet the blessing lies in holding to your origin. The blossoms beyond the ridge have faded; chase them no more. Return to your own peak and gorge, where the spring rises of itself. The tilling is yours; the meeting of fortunes belongs to heaven. Ask only of your roots.

The temple keeper adds

A high lot. Don't take it as a guarantee; take it as leave to walk on, easy.

[ Draw another at the temple ][ Keep a traffic omamori ]