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ArtistThe forests taught me to sing, the wind whispering in the reeds. The pine trees’ soughing harps have but few strings and their songs are mostly sombre. – But now and then from summer meadows sunshine and bright colours stole into the poem’s dark weave.
A wooden harp stands gracefully amidst tall, vibrant green grass in a serene forest setting, surrounded by lush trees and dappled sunlight filtering through the foliage.