And also I was the soul of the willow tree
that gives every spring its shade.
I the sheer soul of the cliffs
where the mist creeps up and scatters.
And the unquiet soul of the stream
that shrieks in shining waterfalls.
I was the blue soul of the pond
that looks with strange eyes on the wanderer.
I the soul of the all-moving wind
and the humble soul of opening flowers.