O you have grown so stagnant, my love! No longer do you dance along the breeze like before, like when you cruised all the way from the silver hills to end in me, said the Sea to the River. It seems another era when you would rush ahead, nomadic and beautiful, flowing like a constant wonder with a song in your heart. You are no longer the labyrinth that you still profess to be. Indeed, you are changed; you have lost the charm of flow.
But if I wander, thought the River, why, I might melt into another sea.
The Sea does not spare such spiral thoughts. He would rather think that the river is now a lake.