Isn’t it a shame?
Our parents said of the river,
The one from that old legend
The river sprung from a lady’s tears

Our parents said of the river
It is special to our town
The river sprung from a lady’s tears
When she lost her children

It is special to our town
Provides clean water, fresh fish
When she lost her children
And shed unending tears of grief

Provides clean water, fresh fish—
Then one day Papa came home early
And shed unending tears of grief
Worried for our future

Then one day Papa came home early
Nets almost empty, boots dry
Worried for our future
When the river shrank another inch

Nets almost empty, boots dry
Papa shouted at it in frustration
When the river shrank another inch
And we went to bed hungry

Papa shouted at it in frustration
Days passed with no catch
And we went to bed hungry
While Mama cried and cried

Days passed with no catch
The town shrank with the river’s borders
While Mama cried and cried
In despair for her children

The town shrank with the river’s borders
The tears the lady wept
In despair for her children
Ceasing their flow

The tears the lady wept
Tears seemingly unending
Ceasing their flow.
I think I know the reason

Tears seemingly unending,
But the river’s drying up.
I think I know the reason:
The lady must have found her children

But the river’s drying up,
The one from that old legend.
The lady must have found her children.
Isn’t it a shame?