It seemed to him that in all
his life he had never heard any music so beautiful.
"But soon the bird flew to another tree, farther from the monastery,
and the monk followed, to listen to its song again. Then the bird flew
to a tree farther off, and still the monk followed. Once more the bird
flew to another tree, and once more the monk followed it, for it
seemed to him that as long as that bird sang he could listen to
nothing else and could think of nothing else. But he saw that the sun
had gone down and he knew that it was time for him to go back to the
monastery. As he went back he looked at the colors that the sun had
left behind it in the sky, and he thought that they were as beautiful
to see as the voice of the bird was to hear.
"They were all faded and the darkness had come on when he reached the
monastery and went in. And if he had wondered at the song of the bird
and at the colors in the sky, he wondered yet more when he found
himself again in the place where he had lived for many years. For
many things about the place were changed, and the men in it were all
changed.
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