Gitanjali
Translated by Rabindranath Tagore
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The opening
1.
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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About this edition
- The words
- Rabindranath Tagore's English translation, copied word for word.
- Copied from
- Left out
- The source library's header, footer and license
- The title page and opening pages before chapter 1, in 2 places
- A preface, foreword or afterword