
I must have seen this river before,
Running its course since ages long gone;
Its banks, I sense, have many times watched
My different shapes and thoughts turn to naught;
/
How strange it is to stand on its banks
With a new face and memory lost,
Starting afresh while feeling as odd
As an old man in a little boy’s clothes;
/
I’m blessed to have such short memory:
To recall all would burden the mind
Too much for it to still soar when hope
Shines
Just out of reach, like the day’s first light!
/
Yet, if I see this river again,
I pray I may remember my selves –
All of them: men, and women, and ghosts,
So I could cease to hope, and instead, know
Such beautiful and thoughtful lines in this poem.
Thank you for enjoying the poem, my friend!