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 water and what remains is called memory. Recollect and pray. And you will find the dearly loved images again."
And as an azure kingfisher darted above the reeds, the poet cried:
"Dear angel! Do I not see the color of my mother's eyes in the wings of that bird?"
And the divine spirit answered: