The river carries silent tales to me,
Like whispers soft, it bends beneath the sky,
It turns the house where dreams and shadows flee,
Reflecting all that in the stillness lie.

As mirror clear, it shows a world reversed,
Each window’s glow a dance of light and sound,
With every ripple, stories are dispersed,
In gentle waves, the city's heart is found.

Like woven threads, it beckons boats to glide,
Their sound mingling with the water's flow,
Together on this journey, side by side,
They trace the paths where countless dreams do grow.

So let it flow, this river of the muse,
In silent tales, the city finds its truths.

Tomaž Jevšenak