The Poem of the Beautiful Landscapes

Why are the landscapes beautiful, and the approaches to the forest at twilight drawn to the melody of the pipes warming in your breast, and the bluish puddle on the other side of the railroad tracks make the tune in your heart tremble and the body yearn to step over its banks as if once, on a childhood evening, it walked there…? Because every landscape in the world has its souls that were joined to it by the finest desires and the sweetness of the heart’s exaltation in the days when love rose as if blooming spring and summer together, and also in the days of a late-summer tear glistening in the mystery of parting… and the ripened fruit reddening in the gardens… No landscape is beautiful for itself, in its forest and its river and its well. It takes its beauty, in all its facets and luscious scents, abundantly

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