The River

We cannot step into the same stream twice but we have stepped. Oh, deep and mighty river of bliss that runs between the paradise and the inferno. Our reflections quiver with cold, with yearning, with the future tense which is indefinite... It will be over as soon as we recover the old sense of water depth. Oh, let this leaf of clover glued to your buttock be a pledge of love which first, a wild, a furious, a foamy, rapidly rushes, jumping from above into the chasm and then, a calm, a homey, quenches a valley’s thirst… Once we will see this mighty river flow into the sea.