How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
read more

How dear to this heart are the scenes of my childhood,
When fond recollection presents them to view.
. . . .
The old oaken bucket, the iron-bound bucket,
The moss-covered bucket, which hung in the well.

The world turns softly
Not to spill its lakes and rivers,
The water is held in its read more

The world turns softly
Not to spill its lakes and rivers,
The water is held in its arms
And the sky is held in the water.
What is water,
That pours silver,
And can hold the sky?

And so never ending,
But always descending.

And so never ending,
But always descending.

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.

The sky broke like an egg into full sunset and the water caught fire.

It is wretched business to be digging a well just as thirst is
mastering you.
[Lat., Miserum est read more

It is wretched business to be digging a well just as thirst is
mastering you.
[Lat., Miserum est opus,
Igitur demum fodere puteum, ubi sitis fauces tedet.]

Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, read more

Nothing in the world is more flexible and yielding than water. Yet when it attacks the firm and the strong, none can withstand it, because they have no way to change it. So the flexible overcome the adamant, the yielding overcome the forceful. Everyone knows this, but no one can do it.

I have drunk deep of the waters of my ancestors.

I have drunk deep of the waters of my ancestors.

Still waters run no mills.

Still waters run no mills.

The rising world of waters dark and deep.

The rising world of waters dark and deep.