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The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day

runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.

It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the

earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous

waves of leaves and flowers.

It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradle of birth

and of death, in ebb and in flow.

I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of

life.  And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my

blood this moment.

Is it beyond thee to be glad with the gladness of this rhythm?

to be tossed and lost and broken in the whirl of this fearful


All things rush on, they stop not, they look not behind, no power

can hold them back, they rush on.

Keeping steps with that restless, rapid music, seasons come

dancing and pass away–colours, tunes, and perfumes pour in

endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up

and dies every moment.

That I should make much of myself and turn it on all sides, thus

casting coloured shadows on thy radiance–such is thy


Thou settest a barrier in thine own being and then callest thy

severed self in myriad notes.  This thy self-separation has taken

body in me.

The poignant song is echoed through all the sky in many-coloured

tears and smiles, alarms and hopes; waves rise up and sink again,

dreams break and form.  In me is thy own defeat of self.

This screen that thou hast raised is painted with innumerable

figures with the brush of the night and the day.  Behind it thy

seat is woven in wondrous mysteries of curves, casting away all

barren lines of straightness.

The great pageant of thee and me has overspread the sky.  With

the tune of thee and me all the air is vibrant, and all ages pass

with the hiding and seeking of thee and me.

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From: GITANJALI – ‘Song Offerings’



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