"Ever centred in my thoughts, I resemble you alot. O, partner of the yesteryear, This year, I'm alone, alas! All day long in your lane, I, the hurtful stones amass. Who can look me in the face? I'm but your looking glass. You are the bustling street of life, I, the lonesome jungle path. The coming season shall weep for me, I'm the season's dying draught. In my wave lies my bane, I'm a river, athirst withal."