Some time when the river is ice
ask me mistakes I have made.
Ask me whether
what I have done is my life.
Others have come in their slow way
into my thought,
and some have tried to help or to hurt:
ask me what difference
their strongest love or hate has made.

I will listen to what you say.

You and I can turn and look
at the silent river and wait.
We know the current is there, hidden;
and there are comings and goings
from miles away
that hold the stillness exactly before us.

What the river says, that is what I say.

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