8.The River
I walked with the river in kind of a dream
Hand in hand, the all-knowing river and me
To the clammer of rushes
and deeply barren trees
A drunk making blossom, the blush to be seen
I told him my sorrows and broken-down dreams
Confessed every lie, replayed every scene
He openly wept as he listened to me
And then, with the sun in the west,
he showed me the sea
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