Molten in cold love from the warmth of the seasons
flowing along mounts, valleys and the lands of the
peasants
I see life, I see death
From the first bath of a baby
to the last submergence of the gone and old
I flow sometimes politely sometimes too bold
I have the lost memories of the child
who runs along my banks with paper boats
an unknown destination to where it floats
and the memories of a lonely person
denied by the world
comparing the flow of his tears
with my mighty waters fierce
I have the memories of an old man,
Mourning for his gone love
the memories of his first kiss along my banks
laughter of the kids and the joy of their pranks
I contain the fury of the floods and the droughts
I grace the lands with the harvest of the crops
I have seen them all come I have seen them all
go
My path of solace is steady and slow
What makes you give up ?
Look a dead leaf has traveled this far
sometimes it is important to go with the flow.
