““At one point, in the east, the mists grew lighter and were clad in gold, like warriors. Then the mists swayed, and the golden warriors bent low. From behind them the sun rose, settled upon the gilt mountain ridges and beamed upon the plain, flooding it with its dazzling brilliance. And the mists now soared triumphantly in a glorious ring, broke up in the west and, fluttering, drifted off into the heights above. Makar thought that he heard a marvelous song. It was the very hymn with which the earth greeted the rising sun every day. Only Makar had not paid attention to it before, and this was the first time in all his life that he realized how beautiful the song was. He stood still listening to it, and refused to go any farther. He could stand there forever listening to it””
