In the shallow river I looked for a precious stone
to give my bride, the one I found was green and gold.
She sat in the park and held hands
with a man, his face was hidden by the shadow of a tree.

I went back to the shallow river,
now a mirror where I could see my mother’s face and
when I threw back my gift into its glossy indifference,
her face became a fragment of memories.

Yesterday’s wind is blowing through leafless tree and tussling yellow straw;
and high above it all, where the rainbow cannot reach, I can hear
my bride whisper secrets into her lover’s ear.