by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941)
Translation by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941)

The gift
Language: English  after the Bangla (Bengali) 
I want to give you something, my child,
for we are drifting in the stream of the world.

Our lives will be carried apart, 
and our love forgotten.

But I am not so foolish as to hope 
that I could buy your heart with my gifts.

Young is your life, your path long, 
and you drink the love we bring you at one draught 
and turn and run away from us.

You have your play and your playmates. 
What harm is there if you have no time 
or thought for us.

We, indeed, have leisure enough in old age 
to count the days that are past, 
to cherish in our hearts what our hands have lost for ever.

The river runs swift with a song, 
breaking through all barriers. 
But the mountain stays and remembers, 
and follows her with his love.


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)

Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2016-08-06
Line count: 19
Word count: 141