Reading section 5

LII

I. 130. _sâîn vin dard kareje hoy_

When I am parted from my Beloved, my heart is full of misery: I have no comfort in the day, I have no sleep in the night. To whom shall I tell my sorrow? The night is dark; the hours slip by. Because my Lord is absent, I start up and tremble with fear. Kabîr says: "Listen, my friend! there is no other satisfaction, save in the encounter with the Beloved."

LIII

I. 122. _kaum muralî s'abd s'un ânand bhayo_

What is that flute whose music thrills me with joy? The flame burns without a lamp; The lotus blossoms without a root; Flowers bloom in clusters; The moon-bird is devoted to the moon; With all its heart the rain-bird longs for the shower of rain; But upon whose love does the Lover concentrate His entire life?

LIV

I. 112. _s'untâ nahî dhun kî khabar_

Have you not heard the tune which the Unstruck Music is playing? In the midst of the chamber the harp of joy is gently and sweetly played; and where is the need of going without to hear it? If you have not drunk of the nectar of that One Love, what boots it though you should purge yourself of all stains? The Kazi is searching the words of the Koran, and instructing others: but if his heart be not steeped in that love, what does it avail, though he be a teacher of men? The Yogi dyes his garments with red: but if he knows naught of that colour of love, what does it avail though his garments be tinted? Kabîr says: "Whether I be in the temple or the balcony, in the camp or in the flower garden, I tell you truly that every moment my Lord is taking His delight in me."

LV

I. 73. _bhakti kâ mârag jhînâ re_

Subtle is the path of love! Therein there is no asking and no not-asking, There one loses one's self at His feet, There one is immersed in the joy of the seeking: plunged in the deeps of love as the fish in the water. The lover is never slow in offering his head for his Lord's service. Kabîr declares the secret of this love.

LVI

I. 68. _bhâi kôî satguru sant kahâwaî_

He is the real Sadhu, who can reveal the form of the Formless to the vision of these eyes: Who teaches the simple way of attaining Him, that is other than rites or ceremonies: Who does not make you close the doors, and hold the breath, and renounce the world: Who makes you perceive the Supreme Spirit wherever the mind attaches itself: Who teaches you to be still in the midst of all your activities. Ever immersed in bliss, having no fear in his mind, he keeps the spirit of union in the midst of all enjoyments. The infinite dwelling of the Infinite Being is everywhere: in earth, water, sky, and air: Firm as the thunderbolt, the seat of the seeker is established above the void. He who is within is without: I see Him and none else.

LVII

I. 66. _sâdho, s'abd sâdhnâ kîjai_

Receive that Word from which the Universe springeth! That word is the Guru; I have heard it, and become the disciple. How many are there who know the meaning of that word?

O Sadhu! practise that Word! The Vedas and the Puranas proclaim it, The world is established in it, The Rishis and devotees speak of it: But none knows the mystery of the Word. The householder leaves his house when he hears it, The ascetic comes back to love when he hears it, The Six Philosophies expound it, The Spirit of Renunciation points to that Word, From that Word the world-form has sprung, That Word reveals all. Kabîr says: "But who knows whence the Word cometh?

LVIII

I. 63. _pîle pyâlâ, ho matwâlâ_

Empty the Cup! O be drunken! Drink the divine nectar of His Name! Kabîr says: "Listen to me, dear Sadhu! From the sole of the foot to the crown of the head this mind is filled with poison."

LIX

I. 52. _khasm na cînhai bâwari_

O man, if thou dost not know thine own Lord, whereof art thou so proud? Put thy cleverness away: mere words shall never unite thee to Him. Do not deceive thyself with the witness of the Scriptures: Love is something other than this, and he who has sought it truly has found it.

LX

I. 56. _sukh sindh kî sair kâ_

The savour of wandering in the ocean of deathless life has rid me of all my asking: As the tree is in the seed, so all diseases are in this asking.

LXI

I. 48. _sukh sâgar men âîke_

When at last you are come to the ocean of happiness, do not go back thirsty. Wake, foolish man! for Death stalks you. Here is pure water before you; drink it at every breath. Do not follow the mirage on foot, but thirst for the nectar; Dhruva, Prahlad, and Shukadeva have drunk of it, and also Raidas has tasted it: The saints are drunk with love, their thirst is for love. Kabîr says: "Listen to me, brother! The nest of fear is broken. Not for a moment have you come face to face with the world: You are weaving your bondage of falsehood, your words are full of deception: With the load of desires which you. hold on your head, how can you be light?" Kabîr says: "Keep within you truth, detachment, and love."

LXII

I. 35. _satî ko kaun s'ikhâwtâ hai_

Who has ever taught the widowed wife to burn herself on the pyre of her dead husband? And who has ever taught love to find bliss in renunciation?

LXIII

I. 39. _are man, dhîraj kâhe na dharai_

Why so impatient, my heart? He who watches over birds, beasts, and insects, He who cared for you whilst you were yet in your mother's womb, Shall He not care for you now that you are come forth? Oh my heart, how could you turn from the smile of your Lord and wander so far from Him? You have left Your Beloved and are thinking of others: and this is why all your work is in vain.

LXIV

I. 117. _sâîn se lagan kathin hai, bhâî_

Now hard it is to meet my Lord! The rain-bird wails in thirst for the rain: almost she dies of her longing, yet she would have none other water than the rain. Drawn by the love of music, the deer moves forward: she dies as she listens to the music, yet she shrinks not in fear. The widowed wife sits by the body of her dead husband: she is not afraid of the fire. Put away all fear for this poor body.

LXV

I. 22. _jab main bhûlâ, re bhâî_

O brother! when I was forgetful, my true Guru showed me the Way. Then I left off all rites and ceremonies, I bathed no more in the holy water: Then I learned that it was I alone who was mad, and the whole world beside me was sane; and I had disturbed these wise people. From that time forth I knew no more how to roll in the dust in obeisance: I do not ring the temple bell: I do not set the idol on its throne: I do not worship the image with flowers. It is not the austerities that mortify the flesh which are pleasing to the Lord, When you leave off your clothes and kill your senses, you do not please the Lord: The man who is kind and who practises righteousness, who remains passive amidst the affairs of the world, who considers all creatures on earth as his own self, He attains the Immortal Being, the true God is ever with him. Kabîr says: "He attains the true Name whose words are pure, and who is free from pride and conceit."

LXVI

I. 20. _man na rangâye_

The Yogi dyes his garments, instead of dyeing his mind in the colours of love: He sits within the temple of the Lord, leaving Brahma to worship a stone. He pierces holes in his ears, he has a great beard and matted locks, he looks like a goat: He goes forth into the wilderness, killing all his desires, and turns himself into an eunuch: He shaves his head and dyes his garments; he reads the Gîtâ and becomes a mighty talker. Kabîr says: "You are going to the doors of death, bound hand and foot!"

LXVII

I. 9. _nâ jâne sâhab kaisâ hai_

I do not know what manner of God is mine. The Mullah cries aloud to Him: and why? Is your Lord deaf? The subtle anklets that ring on the feet of an insect when it moves are heard of Him. Tell your beads, paint your forehead with the mark of your God, and wear matted locks long and showy: but a deadly weapon is in your heart, and how shall you have God?

LXVIII

III. 102. _ham se rahâ na jây_

I hear the melody of His flute, and I cannot contain myself: The flower blooms, though it is not spring; and already the bee has received its invitation. The sky roars and the lightning flashes, the waves arise in my heart, The rain falls; and my heart longs for my Lord. Where the rhythm of the world rises and falls, thither my heart has reached: There the hidden banners are fluttering in the air. Kabîr says: "My heart is dying, though it lives."

LXIX

III. 2. _jo khodâ masjid vasat hai_

If God be within the mosque, then to whom does this world belong? If Ram be within the image which you find upon your pilgrimage, then who is there to know what happens without? Hari is in the East: Allah is in the West. Look within your heart, for there you will find both Karim and Ram; All the men and women of the world are His living forms. Kabîr is the child of Allah and of Ram: He is my Guru, He is my Pir.

LXX

III. 9. _s'îl santosh sadâ samadrishti_

He who is meek and contented., he who has an equal vision, whose mind is filled with the fullness of acceptance and of rest; He who has seen Him and touched Him, he is freed from all fear and trouble. To him the perpetual thought of God is like sandal paste smeared on the body, to him nothing else is delight: His work and his rest are filled with music: he sheds abroad the radiance of love. Kabîr says: "Touch His feet, who is one and indivisible, immutable and peaceful; who fills all vessels to the brim with joy, and whose form is love."

LXXI

III. 13. _sâdh sangat pîtam_