Your gifts to humans fulfil all our needs
and return to you, the source, but un-lessened!
The river completes his daily grind
hastening through hamlets and fields
ceaselessly streaming, winding in the end
towards the washing of your feet.
The flowers fail not to sweeten the air
with fragrant perfume, returning to offer
you the last service with a worship
that has never impoverished the world.
Likewise the words of this poet receive
different meanings from men and women
chanting them leaving the final sense
with you dwelling in the cave of my heart.
Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 75
Henry Victor 06.12.2012
No comments:
Post a Comment