Springs
The bounty of the earth, from
Its soul, the springs
By the hillside, along
Every road,
And at the path to the yard,
Without any price,
They were given to us.
Bottles, tubes, and reservoirs
Were invented,
Sealed in bottles.
The springs were forgotten,
Their streams
Dried up.
The song of the nightingale
Was never seen
In the eyes of the spring.