Who is there
Always there in the city
And yet constantly arriving
And yet constantly going
It is a river
responds a child
a guesser of riddles
then with a twinkle in his eyes he adds
and the river is called the Seine
When the city is called Paris
and the river it’s like a person
Sometimes she runs she runs quickly
She hastens the pace at dusk
Sometimes she stops in the spring
and looks at you as if a mirror
She cries when you cry
or smiles to comfort you
and always bursts out laughing
when the summer sun arrives.