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Carry The Water

But you, my friend, will never know

How long I sat beside the well,

How deep and dark the well did go.

My friend, don't ask. I'll never tell.


You'll never know the bucket's weight

As I lowered it down to fill it whole.

You'll never know how long did I wait,

Until I dared to carry it home.


My dearest friend, you won't believe

How sore and bloody my hands became,

How desperate I became – to live!

To carry the water from where I came.


You'll never wonder how much of it

Have spilled because of a momentary pause,

You'll never feel the burning heat,

When Sun has sworn to ruin your cause.


You'll never doubt my true intent,

Or consider it an unworthy aim.

You'll comfort me in my torment,

And love me for what I became.


And when I return with a bucket half-full,

Don't hesitate for a moment to think. 

Don't worry, friend. It's wonderful.

All you have to do is drink.


An abstract illustration of a man carrying two buckets of water

 

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