Shores

I’ll kneel by the river.
I’ve walked along the shores of love.
On the steep banks, I scraped my palms until they bled.
On the gentle, wind-swept banks, I stumbled through the debris.
On the steep banks, I scraped my palms until they bled.
On the gentle banks, I howled like a wolf.

I’ll bow to all those I’ve met.
Those who taught me, those who gave me the school of life.
Along steep and gentle banks.
I found what I had lost over the centuries.
Along steep and gentle banks.
In wind-swept groves, sometimes in gardens.

I’ll walk to the river’s bend.
And pick cornflowers in the field.
Along steep and gentle banks.
Somewhere here, or maybe somewhere there.
Along steep and gentle banks.
What I found, and what I lost.

I’ll pray, then go to a quiet stretch of water.
Rye spreads out, a bed among the birches.
It seems there’s more than one truth in life.
Left and right, the river’s banks.
It’s clear there’s more than one truth in life.
On the left, on the right, the waves splash.

I’ll kneel by the river.
I’ve walked along the banks of love.
On the steep banks, I scraped my palms until they bled.
On the gentle, wind-swept banks, I stumbled.
On the steep banks, I scraped my palms until they bled.
On the gentle banks, I howled like a wolf.