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Time is endless in thy hands, my lord

Language: English after the Bangla (Bengali)

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord. 
There is none to count thy minutes.

Days and nights pass 
and ages bloom and fade like flowers. 
Thou knowest how to wait.

Thy centuries follow each other 
perfecting a small wild flower.

We have no time to lose, 
and having no time 
we must scramble for a chance. 
We are too poor to be late.

And thus it is that time goes by 
while I give it to every querulous man who claims it, 
and thine altar is empty of all offerings to the last.

At the end of the day I hasten in fear 
lest thy gate to be shut; 
but I find that yet there is time.


Translation(s): GER GER

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Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Authorship


Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)

Settings in other languages:

  • Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist , title unknown ENG by Claus Ogermann.

Other available translations, adaptations, and transliterations (if applicable):

  • GER German (Deutsch) (Bertram Kottmann) , title unknown, copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission


Text added to the website: 2005-01-17.
Last modified: 2014-07-11 23:58:13
Line count: 17
Word count: 118

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Zeit ist endlos, Herr

Language: German (Deutsch) after the English

Zeit ist endlos, Herr, in Deinen Händen.
Keinen gibt's, der Deine Stunden zählt.

Tage, Nächte fliehen vorbei
Und die Jahrtausende erblüh'n und welken hin
Gleich Blumen. Doch Du kannst warten.

Deine Jahrhunderte geh'n hin, eins nach dem andern
Und eine kleine Wiesenblume ist das Werk, das sie vollendet haben.

Wir aber dürfen keine Zeit verlieren,
Wir haben keine Zeit,
Und deshalb müssen wir uns um unsern Vorteil raufen.
Wir sind zu arm, als daß wir uns verspäten dürften.

Und daher kommt es, daß meine Zeit vorübergeht;
Ich geb' sie 
jedem zänkischen Mann, der sie erheischt:
Indessen ist zuletzt Dein Altar
Leer von allen Opfergaben.

Doch wenn der Tag zu Ende ist, dann haste ich vor Furcht,
Es könnte Dein Tempeltor geschlossen sein -
Und finde, es ist noch immer Zeit.


Submitted by Emily Ezust [Administrator]

Authorship


Based on
Based on

Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive)


Text added to the website: 2005-01-17.
Last modified: 2014-06-16 10:02:12
Line count: 19
Word count: 130