ODE ON WATER

When the Euphrates riverbed dries up
And all the mountain springs stop flowing,
When the hind does not find the falling stream
And the long walk wears her out and collapses,

When the memory of maidens and fairies is erased
Which by the spring the white cloth and the deep circle of water are gone,
And when the oaks by the stream dry up,
And the storks no longer walk by the pond,

When terrible wars begin for every golden drop,
And predators and hyenas roam the land,
And no one has a staff like Moses
To bring forth a noisy waterfall hitting the rocks,

Then I will open the last bottle of clear liquid
- with these verses I will conclude this ode –
And pour it carefully into fine crystal glasses;
I will say to my friend: «Long live the water!»