Winter snow falls in the mountains,

and, melting, seeps down to the spring.

The spring, in a turbulent fountain,

with a sweet song of youth to sing,

runs down to the riotous river,

and the river flows on to the sea.

Then the water again,

in the snow and the rain,

goes back where it used to be.


I wonder if reincarnation

isn't much like the rain and the snow,

returning through all of eternity

to the places that it used to know.