II. 24. hamsâ, kaho purâtan vât
Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale. From what land do you come, O Swan? to what shore will you fly? Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek? Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me! There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the terror of Death is no more. There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent "He is I" is borne on the wind: There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no other joy.