Gitanjali-75
THY gifts to us mortals fulfil all our
needs and yet run back to thee
undiminished.
The river has its everyday work to
do and hastens through fields and
hamlets; yet its incessant stream
winds towards the washing of thy
feet.
The flower sweetens the air with
its perfume; yet its last service is to
offer itself to thee.
Thy worship does not impoverish
the world.
From the words of the poet men
take what meanings please them; yet
their last meaning points to thee.