XVII THE LITTLE CHILDREN
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
THE river is almost dry; the brittle reeds are dying in the mud; the air burns and, far beyond the hollow banks, a clear brook flows upon the gravel.
It is there that, from morning to evening, the little naked children come to play. They bathe themselves only as high as their calves for the river is low.
But they walk in the current, sometimes slipping on the rocks, and the little boys throw water on the little girls, who laugh.
And when a troop of passing merchants lead their great white oxen to drink, they clasp their hands behind them and watch the enormous beasts.