আমারে তুমি অশেষ করেছ
Endless, you have made me
Such is your divine play
Emptying, you fill me
Again with life anew.
You roamed around many a hill and dale
With this slight flute of yours
You played on it many a melody
Over and over in your wanderings
Caressed by your touch
My heart knows no bounds
My words spill over in exaltation
My fist remains ever full of
what you bestow night and day
Aeons pass as you give
and I keep on partaking
(Rabindranath's own translation in The Gitanjali)
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy
and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
Endless, you have made me
Such is your divine play
Emptying, you fill me
Again with life anew.
You roamed around many a hill and dale
With this slight flute of yours
You played on it many a melody
Over and over in your wanderings
Caressed by your touch
My heart knows no bounds
My words spill over in exaltation
My fist remains ever full of
what you bestow night and day
Aeons pass as you give
and I keep on partaking
(Rabindranath's own translation in The Gitanjali)
Thou hast made me endless, such is thy pleasure.
This frail vessel thou emptiest again and again,
and fillest it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed thou hast carried over hills and dales,
and hast breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of thy hands my little heart loses its limits in joy
and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Thy infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still thou pourest, and still there is room to fill.
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