VI
WHERE roads are made I lose my way.
In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track.
The pathway is hidden by the birds' wings, by the star-fires, by the
flowers of the wayfaring seasons.
And I ask my heart if its blood carries the wisdom of the unseen way.
WHERE roads are made I lose my way.
In the wide water, in the blue sky there is no line of a track.
The pathway is hidden by the birds' wings, by the star-fires, by the
flowers of the wayfaring seasons.
And I ask my heart if its blood carries the wisdom of the unseen way.
Rabindranath Tagore
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