Let's not muddy the water. Imagine that close by a dove is drinking from it, or in a distant grove a finch is washing its wings in it, or in some village it fills a storage jar. Let's not muddy the water. Perhaps this flowing stream runs by the foot of a poplar tree and eases some heart's grief. A dervish, perhaps, has moistened his crust in it. A young woman stood on its bank--- the water doubled her beauty. Let's not muddy the water. How delicious this water is! How refreshing this stream! Those people who live upstream, how fortunate they are! May their springs be ever fresh, their cows always fertile! I haven't seen their village, But surely, God's foot is on their threshing floor and the moonlight there illuminates the width of their words. The walls are low in the village upstream. Blue there is really blue. When buds blossom, they know, those people. What a village it must be! May its streets be filled with music! Those people by the stream Have left it clear. Let's not muddy the water.
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