The little bird watched the gentleness of the river,
Moved by its benevolent melody, the bird asked:
‘Tell me, wise riverie,
What treasure manifests this benevolence?'
The river replied:
“I have flown through a great distance:
Through hills, valleys, plains and plateaus.
All the way chattering with:
Flowers, pebbles, Earth, sky,
Chirpy birdies and roarie wilds.
Sometimes, I nourished out and cherished in
Sometimes, I repressed out and perished in,
I recurrently killed myself
Parts of me torn, parts of me grown”
Saying this, she paused for a gasp.
When the bird, impatient, interrupted:
‘Are these your treasure,
Or, where you born with your benevolence?'
The river replied:
‘My origin, the purest, exceedingly nourishing,
Promising origin: I do love, but not the best.
I love the now the best:
For it is here that I have known them all:
The wildest rocks and the smoothest pebbles
Deepest pain and exceeding pleasure
The now that sees my blossoming beyond and within.
The now, I love the best:
The now that cradles pain and joy,
The now that holds fear and strength,
The now that is less of me, and full of life.’
