Tagore : The World of Insects
  The branches of the Karni tree are hung with tough spider silk that is wet with dew. On both sides of the garden path, the stars are scattered with small brown ants. In the morning and afternoon, I walked through it, and suddenly I found that the flowering branches of the scented scented flowers, and the Dakar trees were covered with white flowers.
  On earth, people's families look small, but they are not. The nest of insects is not so embarrassing. They are not easy to see, but at the center of all creation. For generations, they have many worries, many difficulties, and many needs – which constitute a long history. Day after day, showing unstoppable life active force.
  I am stunned among them, I can't hear their hunger, thirst, and death... the flow of perpetual emotional flow. I scorned poetry and thought about the words to complete half of the songs. For the world of spiders, the society of ants, I am so confusing, eccentric, and meaningless. In their dark world, is there a reverberating softness of the Capricorn, a wonderful song of breathing, an inaudible whisper, and a heavy footless voice that cannot be expressed?
  I am a mortal. I am confident that I can travel around the world and even remove the obstacles on the way to the moon and the moon. However, the kingdom of the spider is always closed to me, the end of the world full of my pain, resentment and joy, and the curtain of the ant's soul is always low. In the morning and afternoon, I went back and forth on the roads outside of their “small and infinite”, witnessing the blossoming of the frangipani flowers, and the Dakar trees were covered with white flowers.