Gitanjali - Flute:
- You have made me endless, such is your pleasure.
This frail vessel you empty again and again, and fill it ever with fresh life.
This little flute of a reed you have carried over hills and dales, and have breathed through it melodies eternally new.
At the immortal touch of your hands my little heart loses its limits in joy and gives birth to utterance ineffable.
Your infinite gifts come to me only on these very small hands of mine.
Ages pass, and still you pour, and still there is room to fill.