Translation

    The river moves
                            flowing
winter    spring   summer  fall
    each day new water from the mountains
        comes down the streamlets
            over the same stones
            by the same trees
                to the same valley
    The river does not rest at night

I stand on the ridge at dawn.
You are somewhere in the valley below.
I sing to the snow falling from the sky.

Someday
    the river will carry the message
        laughing down the mountains
            and whisper it
                close under your window

                                        By Ron Harton