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
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
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