And their waters, heated by the sun, stroll in the skies as clouds, that come back as rain, to refresh and feed the plants and all other beings. When the waters, heated by the sun go to the clouds, to walk in the skies, they explode in tiny drops so as to, cleansed, be able to absorb the breath of the skies. And as drops they fall to spread celestial blessings everywhere. But, as all other beings, waters want to be together. So, in their longing for the Earth, all of them take the route to lowlands, the bosom of the valleys, to meet again.
Rivers are the water s roads.
Their strolls across the Earth. And the waterfalls are their merry plays, when they fasten their steps and sing by the whiteness of their foam. Before the first Grandpa leaved to the skies, the whole Earth was a prairie and all plants were crept to the ground, embracing the soil. When the first Grandpa started his celestials wanderings, some of them tried to climb, extending their arms in a praise of Grandpa, and the Earth bursted upstairs as mountains trying to reach the skies to search and see him. Birds got wings and in songs sang their joy.