The reeds and rushes are deeply green,
And the white dew is turned into hoarfrost.
The man of whom I think,
Is somewhere about the water.
I go up the stream in quest of him,
But the way is difficult and long.
I go down the stream in quest of him,
And lo ! he is right in the midst of the water.
The reeds and rushes are luxuriant,
And the white dew is not yet dry.
The man of whom I think,
Is on the margin of the water.
I go up the stream in quest of him,
But the way is difficult and steep.
I go down the stream in quest of him,
And lo ! he is on the islet in the midst of the water.
The reeds and rushes are abundant,
And the white dew is not yet ceased.
The man of whom I think,
Is on the bank of the river.
I go up the stream in quest of him,
But the way is difficult and turns to the right.
I go down the stream in quest of him,
And lo ! he is on the island in the midst of the water.