Pluck this little flower and take it, delay not! 
I fear lest it droop
and drop into the dust.
[I may not find]1 a place in thy garland,
but honour it 
with a touch of pain  from thy hand and pluck it. 
I fear lest the day end 
before I am [aware]2,
and the time of offering go by.
Though its colour be not deep 
and its smell be faint, 
use this flower in thy service 
and pluck it while there is time.

About the headline (FAQ)

View original text (without footnotes)
¹ Hinton and some editions of Tagore: "It may not have"
² Hinton (in early performances of the work): "awake"

Text Authorship:

• by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in Gitanjali, no. 6, first published 1912 [author's text checked 1 time against a primary source]

Based on:

• a text in Bangla (Bengali) by Rabindranath Tagore (1861 - 1941), no title, appears in গীতাঞ্জলি (Gitanjali), no. 6 [text unavailable]
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Musical settings (art songs, Lieder, mélodies, (etc.), choral pieces, and other vocal works set to this text), listed by composer (not necessarily exhaustive):

• by Alistair Hinton (b. 1950), "Pluck this little flower", op. 7 no. 1 (1970) [ high soprano and piano ], from Five Songs of Tagore, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]
• by Landon Ronald, Sir (1873 - 1938), "Pluck this little flower", 1913 [ voice and piano ], from Four Song Offerings - 1st series, no. 1 [sung text not yet checked]

Settings in other languages, adaptations, or excerpts:

• Also set in French (Français), a translation by André Gide (1869 - 1951) , no title, appears in Gitanjali (L'Offrande lyrique), no. 6, first published 1914 ; composed by Jean-Émile-Paul Cras, Louis Durey.
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• Also set in German (Deutsch), a translation by Bertram Kottmann , copyright © 2014, (re)printed on this website with kind permission ; composed by Gary Bachlund.
  • Go to the text.
    
• Also set in Italian (Italiano), a translation by Anonymous/Unidentified Artist , first published 1936 ; composed by Franco Alfano.
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Research team for this page: Emily Ezust [Administrator] , Poom Andrew Pipatjarasgit [Guest Editor]

This text was added to the website: 2004-01-17
Line count: 13
Word count: 86

Cueille cette frêle fleur, prends-la vite !
de crainte qu'elle ne se fane
et ne s'effeuille dans la poussière.
S'il n'y a point place pour elle dans ta guirlande,
fais-lui pourtant l'honneur
du contact douloureux de ta main ; cueille-la.
Je crains que le jour ne s'achève
avant que je ne m'en doute et que le temps
de l'offertoire ne soit passé.
Bien que sa couleur soit discrète
et que timide soit sa senteur,
prends cette fleur à ton service
et cueille-la tandis qu'il en est temps.