I watch the swallows skim the silent lake And hear the welcome calls on wings drift by, My soul hears all and I in silence turn Towards the flute that sounds my destiny.
A silver note upon the wafting breeze A golden tone plucked on a golden string, The urge for light within the towering trees The sweetest music in the heart of spring.
But my fate walks in my front and takes my hand, It leads my blind uncompromising soul Towards the burning of a distant land I am drawn a willing servant to my role.
If not today then one day I shall go Into each heart and share the joy I know.
Poems Undated (1727)
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Narad
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