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 тАУ colours, tunes and perfumes pour in endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up and dies every moment.
тЬНЁЯП╗ 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 тАУ colours, tunes and perfumes pour in endless cascades in the abounding joy that scatters and gives up and dies every moment.
тЬНЁЯП╗ Rabindranath Tagore
ЁЯУЦ Gitanjali
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