Selections from "Fruit-Gathering"
What music is that in whose measure the world is rocked?
We laugh when it beats upon the crest of life, we shrink in terror
when it returns into the dark.
But the play is the same that comes and goes with the rhythm of
the endless music.
…
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.
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