The Gift

I want to give you something, my child, for we are drifting in the

stream of the world.

Our lives will be carried apart, and our love forgotten.

But I am not so foolish as to hope that I could buy your heart

with my gifts.

Young is your life, your path long, and you drink the love we

bring you at one draught and turn and run away from us.

You have your play and your playmates. What harm is there if

you have no time or thought for us!

We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age to count the days

that are past, to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost

for ever.

The river runs swift with a song, breaking through all

barriers. But the mountain stays and remembers, and follows her

with his love.