The River

I walked with the river in kind of a dream

Hand in hand, the all-knowing river and me

To the clammer of rushes and deeply barren trees

A drunk making blossom, the blush to be seen

I told him my sorrows and broken-down dreams

Confessed every lie, replayed every scene

He openly wept as he listened to me

And then, with the sun in the west, he showed me the sea