I LONG to go over there to the further bank of the river,  
Where those boats are tied to the bamboo poles in a line;
 
Where men cross over in their boats in the morning with ploughs on their shoulders to till their far-away fields;
 
Where the cowherds make their lowing cattle swim across to the riverside pasture;
 
Whence they all come back home in the evening, leaving the jackals to howl in the island overgrown with weeds,
 
Mother, if you don't mind, I should like to become the boatman of the ferry when I am grown up.
 
They say there are strange pools hidden behind that high bank,
 
Where flocks of wild ducks come when the rains are over, and thick reeds grow round the where waterbirds lay their eggs;
 
Where snipes with their dancing tails stamp their tiny footprints upon the clean sof............