gitanjali

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.