In the river's breast, balsa wood

Bound within fixed borders,
yet how boundless, how infinite you are!
Green as forests—
distant, restless, untouchable!

Did you see, from that towering peak,
a small sapling growing carelessly
beneath the waterfall?
That sapling was me.

I have shaped myself, am shaping still—
for countless centuries.
Gripping the soil of solitude,
deep in light and shadow—silent, trusting, unshakeable.

Be you rushing water,
be you roaring sea,
I will float as balsa wood
on your breast till death,
through divine storms, through blazing sun—
untarnished in the rhythm of your current!