we live by the river, by its tongue, by the opening
to the skies, to the cruel hands, to the fates’ clear blue eyes
we stand like a soldier, we bathe in a wooden tub
and we cry, sometimes we cry, out of floods in our minds

now dive

our fate we sanctify, we hold our share near
in the labour, in the joy, in the blood that is sweet and bitter
we stand on our field, we say “to each his own”
and we lie in a warm room, warm as our blood on the hearth

we sit in the garden on a Saturday afternoon
we watch how the river flows, carves its way on our bones
yeah we live, we stand, we laugh and cry, we hold our share till the end of our time
but now we feel reality leaking from behind our eyes

so dive

oh how does the river flow?
neither serves our need nor pulls down low?
oh how does the river flow?