Myths flow perennially
In this once-roaring river
Said to have sprung
From the locks of a god
To quench a demon's thirst;
Once the god himself came down
To shore up its banks
Threatened by floods
Offering his labor for food
Before lifting the veil off the world
To liberate an old woman
Even as he slept;
Now the sand from its bed
Flows everywhere, crosses borders
Welcomed even by those
Who cannot share their rivers;
Now demons have proliferated
Their monstrous appetites
No gods can satiate.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem