English poem
Gitanjali, LXXV (Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil…)
Thy gifts to us mortals fulfil all our needs and yet run back to thee undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to do and hastens through fields and hamlets; yet its incessant stream winds towards the washing of thy feet.
The flower sweetens the air with its perfume; yet its last service is to offer itself to thee.
Thy worship does not impoverish the world.
From the words of the poet men take what meanings please them; yet their last meaning points to thee.
More by Rabindranath Tagore
- Gitanjali, LXV (What divine drink wouldst thou have…)
- Gitanjali, LXVI (She who ever had remained in…)
- Gitanjali, LXXII (He it is, the innermost one…)
- Gitanjali, LXXIII (Deliverance is not for me in…)
- Gitanjali, LXXVI (Day after day, O lord of…)
- Gitanjali, LXXVIII (When the creation was new and…)
- Gitanjali, LXXXI (On many an idle day have…)
- Gitanjali, LXXXII (Time is endless in thy hands…)