I am a river going down over wide stones, over hard rocks, my path drawn by the wind. The trees around me are shrouded with rain. I am a river descending with greater fury and violence whenever a bridge reflects me in its curves. Clear as crystal every morning. Sometimes tender and kind I slide smoothly through fertile valleys, I let the cattle and the gentle people drink. Children run to me by day, at night trembling lovers stare into my eyes and plunge into the stark darkness of my ghostly water.
I am a river, wild and strong, sometimes I have no respect for life or death, cascading furious waterfalls, I smash stones to pieces. The animals run when I flood their fields, sow their slopes with pebbles, flood their homes, meadows, doors, bodies and hearts. I come down ever faster – when I reach into their hearts, grasp their life and see them from inside, my fury turns peaceful and I become a tree.
I am the river of eternal happiness, I feel the neighbourly breezes, the wind on my face until my journey across mountains, rivers, lakes and prairies is endless. I am the river that sings to the people at midday and sings at their graves – I turn my face to those sacred places.
I am the river that becomes night – I go down by broken depths, by forgotten villages, by cities crammed to the very windows. The hour will come when I disperse into the ocean, to mix my clean waters with its murky waters. I will have to silence my luminous song. I will never again see my green trees, my neighbourly breezes, my clear sky, my dark lake, my sun, my clouds. I will see nothing except the immense blue heaven where everything dissolves in that vast expanse of water – where one song or poem is nothing more than a little river trickling down or a mighty river joining my new luminous waters, in my newly extinguished waters.