the little flute

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

– rabindranath tagore

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~ by tdcatss on July 27, 2015.

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