Rabindranath Tagore,
Fruit-Gathering
“ Listen, my heart, in his flute is the music of the smell of wild flowers, of the glistening leaves and gleaming water, of shadows resonant with bees’ wings. The flute steals his smile from my friend’s lips and spreads it over my life. LXVII You always stand alone beyond the stream of my songs. The waves of my tunes wash your feet but I know not how to reach them. ”
