Deep within the frozen mountain tops
a tiny trickle seeps from molten snow.
Still icy cold the water starts to drip
so gently down the rocky mountain slope.
First hesitant, it soon becomes more bold
and enters raging flows and waterfalls.
Rushing through ravines in foaming streams
it tumbles down the mountain, breathlessly.
Then finally, the water somewhat calms,
to flow serenely through the river bends,
the river where it steadily moves on
until it finds repose in arms of sea.
It's where it calmly rests the rest of days.
Warmed by the sun it finally departs:
it floats to heaven on soft wings of air.

Penned by my hand on the 3rd of Aeguary, in the year 449 AF.