A road freshly built beside a river,

Said to her:

You my dear are old too old,

So we don’t look good together.

 

The river replied:

You are nothing but the path ,

beneath your cover,

And that path is old too old.

 

I am nothing but the water,

That flows between my banks,

And that water my dear,

is renewed every minute.

 

So how can I be old?

and you new.

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