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how to tell you how sweet you still smell to me, 
after my hope and will has poured into this sea, 
draining along the foreign roads of your country? 
 
how are you indeed such a silvery river shimmering in the sun, 
the glimmer of the wind at the surface to which i must grin, 
with green pastures, Amalija, the waters beside which i run? 
 
and my love as tears from aging years fill on in 
and I become blind, I can not smell, but I hear you still 
where my hands find your depths to carry me in.

River Amalija