Tell me, wise old river:
What should we have done, more?
You know how not to hurry
Floating down the shore,
How to take time for changes,
How not to think we're good.
Will we ever stand so bright-eyed
Like we, once children, stood?
Will we ever know you, water,
Or you, ethereal wood?
So few of us can read you
As if you were a book.
