Rivers I traveled for many a year,
then wide and deep, now shallow I fear,
more narrow than I remember,
trickled to creeks of early December.
My boat, long rowed, leaks on the shore.
I stroll the banks, not too much more,
gaze down the hill to watch the waters widen,
strewn with young rowers charmed by Poseidon.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem