O mighty river, born from the secret tears of clouds,
You rush from snow-crowned peaks like a silver sword unsheathed,
Cutting through mountains bold and boulders old,
A restless traveler, a storyteller, a giver of life—
Yes, you, the glittering serpent of the earth.

Very powerful, very gentle, both at once—
You dance through forests where sunlight paints halos on leaves,
You whisper ancient secrets to moss-clad stones,
You carry the fragrance of pine, the chill of heights,
And the courage of winds racing with you.

Sometimes you roar with a thunderous heart—super wild, super strong,
A fearless warrior slashing through gorges,
Hard as fate, unstoppable as time.
And sometimes, very soft, very calm,
Your glassy surface reflects the moon like a dream resting on water.

Villages rise beside you, cities breathe because of you,
Children laugh on your banks, birds craft their music for you,
Fishermen trust your depth, farmers trust your gift—
Grains of gold growing wherever you bless the land.

You are the first road the earth ever knew—
Carrying boats, carrying stories, carrying hope,
International-level explorer, crossing borders without passports,
Greeting lands and cultures with the same silver smile.

You are the painter of landscapes,
Turning dry sands into green paradises,
Waking silent valleys into symphonies of life.
The moon follows you every night,
Stars wink at your shimmering skin,
And the sun crowns you every morning with gold.

Very medium in your curves,
Very long in your journey,
Very endless in your purpose.

You are history written in motion—
Kingdoms rise, kingdoms fall,
But you keep flowing,
Flowing like the heartbeat of the world.

O river—mother, warrior, healer, queen—
When you finally merge with the sea,
It is not the end,
But a reunion—
Drop meeting drop, story meeting story,
A very good ending to a very long journey.

Yet even then, your spirit rises again,
Becoming clouds, becoming rain,
Returning to the mountains like a promise kept—
To flow again, to grow again,
To sing again,
Forever.