Early morning,
it shines,
as dew on the grass.
It falls from the sky,
on invisible strings,
sated; the land smiles.
It trickles as a narrow stream,
or crashes down a waterfall.
It forms ripples on the smooth river surface,
or becomes reckless in the stormy seas.
It springs forth from the ground,
or settles calmly in a well.
It sleeps silently in the lake,
and dances to the beat of the rain.
It is quiet and mysterious in the depths of the ocean,
and laughing in the crashing waves of the sea.
It stands still and stealthy as death,
or runs as if alive.
So precariously it kills,
And drowns what sinks into its abyss,
But to those who stay on the surface,
Water gives life.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
A pleasing poem picture of water in all of its aspects. Very nice. As always, Sandra