Homesick

We used to fish with slender bamboo poles, my childhood friends and I. I think of them every day, far away. Hundreds of springs feed the river. I left my parents and brothers and married far from home. * The river is fed by hundreds of springs. My first love married far away. I can’t forget her smile or her jade pendants. The river flows gently toward the east. I think I’ll take a wooden rowboat and drift forever with the current.