has been on its voyage from endless time.



LXVI

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.

This play of mine with you is a play from afar.

It is the pain of separation that melts into melody through my
flute.

I wait for the time when your boat crosses over to my shore and
you take my flute into your own hands.