the river

i walked with the river in kind of a dream, hand in hand, the all knowing river and me, to the clamour of rushes and deeply bowing trees, and drunk making blossom, that blushed to be seen, i told him my sorrows and broken down dreams, confessed every lie, replayed every scene, he openly wept as he listened to me, and then with the sun in the west, he showed me the sea