I flow past the hut of a poor fisherman, shunning the glare of the sun and the noise of the towns. I stream past trees and under bushes, listening to the song of the birds.

One day, when the fisherman came to cast his nets, I brought him a crystal cradle. He slipped his net quickly beneath it and drew it to him. Lifting the silk coverlet, he saw two babies, a boy and a girl, lying on a soft bed of cotton. The babies opened their eyes and smiled at him, and the man was filled with pity. He threw down his lines and took the cradle and the children home to his wife.

Quietly Flowing Stream in the Bird of Truth, Orange Fairy Book. Picture by Sadao Watanabe.