"Do you remember when you were a child? You came here with your father
and mother who were going fishing. The field near by was warm and
covered with flowers and grasshoppers. The grasshoppers looked like
broken blades of moving grass. Do you wish to see this place again, my
friend?"

The poet answered: "Yes."

So they went together as far as the blue river over which there were
the blue sky and the dark nut-trees.

"Behold your childhood," said the angel.

The poet looked at the water and wept and said:

"I no longer see the reflection of the beloved faces of my mother and
father. They used to sit on the bank. They were calm, good, and happy.
I had on a white pinafore which was always getting dirty, and mamma
cleaned it with her handkerchief. Dear angel, tell me what has become
of the reflections of their beloved faces? I no longer see them. I no
longer see them."

At that moment a cluster of wild nuts dropped from a hazel-tree and
floated down the stream of water.

And the angel said to the poet:

"The reflection of your father and mother went on with the stream of
water like those nuts. For everything obeys the current, substance
as well as shadow. The image of your beloved parents is merged in the