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

Time is endless in thy hands, my lord
Language: English  after the Bangla (Bengali) 
Available translation(s): GER
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.

About the headline (FAQ)

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, adaptations, or excerpts:

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

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

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


Researcher for this text: Emily Ezust [Administrator]

This text was added to the website: 2005-01-17
Line count: 17
Word count: 118