There are moments when I do not wish to listen to the song of the lake. For the lake sings of sorrow. In my youth, I brimmed with fish and frogs and insects. My water was clear and pure. The plants within me grew happily because the sun shone through the ripples on my surface. And so it was for thousands of years. But when the pale man came, he dumped his waste into me. More and more as time went by. Soon the sun could not penetrate my skin and poison spread itself throughout me. Now, the plants have starved and the fish have suffocated. Only I remain, burdened and alone.