BROODING RIVER
Brooding River
This winter saw a lot of rain in the river
Near the houses, it is still running clear and lucid
giving its soul to the ocean
On the old Roman Bridge, I asked the river to stop wasting
It's precious sweet water to the salty sea,
One cannot let thirsty horses drink brackish liquid
after having hauled a cart full of dead sheep
up to a mountain top,
offerings to a god that only exists in the mind of an
idiot savant.
The river hears me not; its job is to run dry during
the summer and when fall arrives, be reborn.
But beware of a river that has no fish
Those who haughtily laugh will be turned into frogs,
The banks are full of them.
Only a princess can make them into humans again.
But they will still have frog souls.
Alas, due to a hard time, the princess is a dancer in
A Spanish nightclub knows nothing about emails
And she is not on Facebook.
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