The streams of affection don't flow by chance,
they are the original sources of time,
in which the first sounds of civilization
and the first breath of humanity are found
Their flow sometimes echoing after striking stones,
sometimes quietly sinking into the sand,
but it never stops until someone pollutes them
For me, a pure, prudent life is not merely about following rules
it is about keeping the water pure,
which has been gifted to me from countless unknown shores.
I want whenever I remember them,
the same cool,
transparent stream should flow within me that lies at the root of these streams of affection
The very thing that wants to preserve within me
Because wrath does not always fall like a storm, a cataclysm, a thunderbolt
it simply diverts the flow of affection in other directions
And when that happens,
an entire river disappears from the map of history
That is why I refrain so that
the streams of affection,
invisible support, deep affection,
and unspoken blessings of my life
do not change their course.
And when God, in his countless forms,
and with his endless streams,
stands before me,
may I look into his eyes
just as a river, recognizes its source,
and returns and says
“I still flow—pure, pure and untainted.”
