interlocking spurring, you torrent the stage
on your way downward as you wage.
you at times astray to the shore at a speed
not wanted, as in gardens, the weed.
you lift on your way many things,
and suddenly bringing your stings.
you reach the middle course,
where you slow a bit; your pacing shows.
you flow in sweetness now being matured.
you flow and twiddle, cool natured.
you move, massively, on and on,
and sometimes you harshly drown,
and people spared, are left to mourn:
and downward still you drag and flow
although you do not like it so;
but upwards never will you go.
old stage you now reach, which people call the plain stage.
meanders you have, having left the gorge.
your path naturally breaks
and you have ox-bow lakes.
like a giant python towards the sea
you crawl, agedly, as seemingly you do not notice
that the sea you are to enter is your killer
but for it to stand you are the pillar.
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