January 1, 1980
Sung by Swami Kriyananda, in a concert in Germany around 1982.
1. I’ve heard your flute high on a cloud,
Your call I can’t resist!
Oh, let me come and play with you,
We’ll scatter music with the dew,
And sound the morning mist.
2. I’ve heard you piping on a hill,
All else I’ve set aside.
Oh, let us dance the mountain peaks,
We’ll skip with breezes on the creeks
And soar the valleys wide!
3. Your flute has called me to the fields,
Now I’ve no place to live;
Don’t send me back rejected, Friend,
Whatever I call mine must end,
All that I am, I give.
4. I hear your flute in every tree,
In every flower and stream,
And sweetest melody of all —
A song that heaven’s joy recalls —
Here in my heart you seem!