Along the lake banks the laughing wind touches the water.
The stone you threw sinks fast,
melting with each other the ripples it moved flow afar.
The leaves wave on them,
creatures come to explore their secrets.
You know for sure the shape of what you threw,
about the waves it gave birth to you just can't say.
Which was, then, your gift to the world,
the stone that rapidly sinks
or the ripples, its unpredictable daughters?