Hermann Hesse. The glass bead game (№ 152487)

The snow is already gone, stood wet fields, along streams and ditches in some places has already broken through the green of bursting buds and the first catkins on bare bushes enveloped everything in a greenish haze, the air was filled with all sorts of smells, the smell of life itself, full of contradictions: it smelled of damp earth, rotting leaves and young shoots, it seemed, here-here will be heard and the smell of violets, for violets although it was still early. We went to the elderberry bushes, and dotted with tiny buds, the leaves have not yet sprouted, and when I cut branches, my nose hit the bitter-sweet smell. He seemed absorbed, merged together, and many times strengthened all the other smells of spring. I was stunned, I sniffed the knife, a hand, a branch... It was the smell of elderberry juice, irresistibly spreading around. We didn't say a word, but my companion for a long time and gazed thoughtfully at the branch and a few times brought it to his nose and began to be, and it is about something you said the smell. Each genuine events, give rise to our experiences, has its own magic, and in this case my experience was that when we walked on the Champs meadows when I breathed in the smells of damp earth and sticky buds, and spring fell on me and filled with happiness, and now it has concentrated, has acquired the power of magic in fortissimo smell of elderflower, becoming sensual character. Even if the then my little adventure, my feelings on this would have ended, the smell of elder, I would never be able to forget; rather, each new meeting with him until the last of my days would Wake in me the memories of that first meeting, when I first consciously experienced this smell.