ЁЯФ╢ The same stream of life that runs through my veins night and day runs through the world and dances in rhythmic measures.
ЁЯФ╖ It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
ЁЯФ╢ It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradles of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.
ЁЯФ╖ I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
ЁЯФ╢ Is it beyond thee to be glad with the gladness of this rhythm? To be tossed and lost and broken in the whirl of this fearful joy?
ЁЯФ╖ All things rush on, they stop not, they look not behind, no power can hold them back, they rush on.
ЁЯФ╢ Keeping steps with that restless, rapid music, seasons come dancing and pass away – colours, tunes and perfumes pour in endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up and dies every moment.
✍ЁЯП╗ Rabindranath Tagore
ЁЯУЦ Gitanjali
ЁЯФ╖ It is the same life that shoots in joy through the dust of the earth in numberless blades of grass and breaks into tumultuous waves of leaves and flowers.
ЁЯФ╢ It is the same life that is rocked in the ocean-cradles of birth and of death, in ebb and in flow.
ЁЯФ╖ I feel my limbs are made glorious by the touch of this world of life. And my pride is from the life-throb of ages dancing in my blood this moment.
ЁЯФ╢ Is it beyond thee to be glad with the gladness of this rhythm? To be tossed and lost and broken in the whirl of this fearful joy?
ЁЯФ╖ All things rush on, they stop not, they look not behind, no power can hold them back, they rush on.
ЁЯФ╢ Keeping steps with that restless, rapid music, seasons come dancing and pass away – colours, tunes and perfumes pour in endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up and dies every moment.
✍ЁЯП╗ Rabindranath Tagore
ЁЯУЦ Gitanjali
рдХोрдИ рдЯिрдк्рдкрдгी рдирд╣ीं:
рдПрдХ рдЯिрдк्рдкрдгी рднेрдЬें