A short biography of river

From faraway mountains of my homeland,
a drop of water, a mere globule as slight as a trickle,
Drop by drop, dripping at one point in space
and over length of centuries, began its course
as thin as a ribbon of wet substance
towards an unknown geography.

It scratched out a line from winter to summer
across a map of unfamiliar landscape, full of
Dark nights and salamanders.
Drop by drop fed by dew from roots and leaves
of forest vegetations and wild grass, by fits and starts,
That water, that tiny drop of water became a river
between two regions of living with their opaque meanings.

Sometimes the earth opened its submarine gate and
At other times the mountains parted
and through their infinite thickness a river runs,
Enriched with spilled rubies and yellow stones.
Through them, a river runs to the call of another life,
its course as long as the eternity.

Amethyst of water from the hands of God,
in the land beyond its native horizon!
To that granite audacity which is humility
even the mountains must sometimes bow their heads.