human
Can you write me a poem about bhagavad gita and ramananda in the style of Leonid Nikolayevich Andreyev?
assistant
Sure, here's a poem about bhagavad gita and ramananda in the style of Leonid Nikolayevich Andreyev:
  The poet Kabîr, a selection from whose songs is here for the
first time offered to English readers, is one of the most
interesting personalities in the history of Indian mysticism.
Born in or near Benares, of Mohammedan parents, and probably
about the year 1440, be became in early life a disciple of the
celebrated Hindu ascetic Râmânanda.  Râmânanda had brought to
Northern India the religious revival which Râmânuja, the great
twelfth-century reformer of Brâhmanism, had initiated in the
South.  This revival was in part a reaction against the
increasing formalism of the orthodox cult, in part an assertion
of the demands of the heart as against the intense
intellectualism of the Vedânta philosophy, the exaggerated monism
preaching the form of an ardent personal devotion to the God
Vishnu, as representing the personal aspect of the Divine Nature:
appearance at a certain level of spiritual culture, and which
creeds and philosophies are powerless to kill.
Though such a devotion is indigenous in Hinduism, and finds
expression in many passages of the Bhagavad Gîtâ, there was in
its mediæval revival a large element of syncretism.  Râmânanda,
through whom its spirit is said to have reached Kabîr, appears to
Jalâlu'ddîn Rûmî, and Hâfiz, were exercising a powerful influence
theology of Brâhmanism.  Some have regarded both these great
religious leaders as influenced also by Christian thought and
life: but as this is a point upon which competent authorities
perhaps three--apparently antagonistic streams of intense
the early Christian Church: and it is one of the outstanding
characteristics of Kabîr's genius that he was able in his poems
to fuse them into one.
A great religious reformer, the founder of a sect to which nearly
mystical poet that Kabîr lives for us.  His fate has been that of
children of God, his followers have honoured his memory by
re-erecting in a new place the barriers which he laboured to cast
expressions of his vision and his love; and it is by these, not
by the didactic teachings associated with his name, that he makes
abstractions, the most otherworldly passion for the Infinite, to
the most intimate and personal realization of God, expressed in
homely metaphors and religious symbols drawn indifferently from
Hindu and Mohammedan belief.  It is impossible to say of their
author that he was Brâhman or Sûfî, Vedântist or Vaishnavite.
definitions; yet each contributed something to the description of
Kabîr's story is surrounded by contradictory legends, on none of
and a Brâhman saint.  His name, however, is practically a
Mohammedan weaver of Benares, the city in which the chief events
of his life took place.
In fifteenth-century Benares the syncretistic tendencies of
Bhakti religion had reached full development.  Sûfîs and Brâhmans
both creeds frequenting the teachings of Râmânanda, whose
reputation was then at its height.  The boy Kabîr, in whom the
religious passion was innate, saw in Râmânanda his destined
teacher; but knew how slight were the chances that a Hindu guru
would accept a Mohammedan as disciple.  He therefore hid upon the
bathe; with the result that the master, coming down to the water,
astonishment, "Ram!  Ram!"--the name of the incarnation under
which he worshipped God.  Kabîr then declared that he had
received the mantra of initiation from Râmânanda's lips, and was
by it admitted to discipleship.  In spite of the protests of
orthodox Brâhmans and Mohammedans, both equally annoyed by this
contempt of theological landmarks, he persisted in his claim;
thus exhibiting in action that very principle of religious
synthesis which Râmânanda had sought to establish in thought.
Râmânanda appears to have accepted him, and though Mohammedan
legends speak of the famous Sûfî Pîr, Takkî of Jhansî, as Kabîr's
to whom in his songs he acknowledges indebtedness.
The little that we know of Kabîr's life contradicts many current
ideas concerning the Oriental mystic.  Of the stages of
discipline through which he passed, the manner in which his
spiritual genius developed, we are completely ignorant.  He seems
the theological and philosophical arguments which his master held
source we may perhaps trace his acquaintance with the terms of
Hindu and Sûfî philosophy.  He may or may not have submitted to
the traditional education of the Hindu or the Sûfî contemplative:
professional ascetic, or retired from the world in order to
devote himself to bodily mortifications and the exclusive pursuit
of adoration, its artistic expression in music and words--for he
was a skilled musician as well as a poet--he lived the sane and
diligent life of the Oriental craftsman.  All the legends agree
on this point: that Kabîr was a weaver, a simple and unlettered
man, who earned his living at the loom.  Like Paul the tentmaker,
ribbon-maker, he knew how to combine vision and industry; the
work of his hands helped rather than hindered the impassioned
meditation of his heart.  Hating mere bodily austerities, he was
no ascetic, but a married man, the father of a family--a
circumstance which Hindu legends of the monastic type vainly
attempt to conceal or explain--and it was from out of the heart
of the common life that he sang his rapturous lyrics of divine
love.  Here his works corroborate the traditional story of his
life.  Again and again he extols the life of home, the value and
reality of diurnal existence, with its opportunities for love and
pervaded by love, joy, and beauty--the proper theatre of man's
quest--in order to find that One Reality Who has "spread His form
It does not need much experience of ascetic literature to
recognize the boldness and originality of this attitude in such a
whether Hindu or Mohammedan, Kabîr was plainly a heretic; and his
observance--which was as thorough and as intense as that of the
Quakers themselves--completed, so far as ecclesiastical opinion
was concerned, his reputation as a dangerous man.  The "simple
far; for He awaited discovery everywhere, more accessible to "the
intervening between the soul and its love--
The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak:
I know, for I have cried aloud to them.
The Purâna and the Koran are mere words:
lifting up the curtain, I have seen.
This sort of thing cannot be tolerated by any organized church;
and it is not surprising that Kabîr, having his head-quarters in
Benares, the very centre of priestly influence, was subjected to
considerable persecution.  The well-known legend of the beautiful
like the Magdalen, by her sudden encounter with the initiate of a
which he was regarded by the ecclesiastical powers.  Once at
least, after the performance of a supposed miracle of healing, he
claiming the possession of divine powers.  But Sikandar Lodi, a
ruler of considerable culture, was tolerant of the eccentricities
Mohammedan birth, was outside the authority of the Brâhmans, and
technically classed with the Sûfîs, to whom great theological
latitude was allowed.  Therefore, though he was banished in the
interests of peace from Benares, his life was spared.  This seems
it is the last event in his career of which we have definite
knowledge.  Thenceforth he appears to have moved about amongst
various cities of northern India, the centre of a group of
disciples; continuing in exile that life of apostle and poet of
health, and with hands so feeble that he could no longer make the
A beautiful legend tells us that after his death his
Mohammedan and Hindu disciples disputed the possession of his
body; which the Mohammedans wished to bury, the Hindus to burn.
As they argued together, Kabîr appeared before them, and told
them to lift the shroud and look at that which lay beneath.  They
half of which were buried by the Mohammedans at Maghar, and half
carried by the Hindus to the holy city of Benares to be burned--
fitting conclusion to a life which had made fragrant the most
beautiful doctrines of two great creeds.
The poetry of mysticism might be defined on the one hand as a
temperamental reaction to the vision of Reality: on the other, as
mystical consciousness to mediate between two orders, going out
in loving adoration towards God and coming home to tell the
secrets of Eternity to other men; so the artistic self-expression
poetry, but love-poetry which is often written with a missionary
intention.
Kabîr's songs are of this kind: out-births at once of rapture and
tongue, they were deliberately addressed--like the vernacular
common life, the universal experience.  It is by the simplest
disciple, the pilgrim, the farmer, the migrant bird-- that he
drives home his intense conviction of the reality of the soul's
intercourse with the Transcendent.  There are in his universe no
This willing acceptance of the here-and-now as a means of
representing supernal realities is a trait common to the greatest
theopathetic state, all aspects of the universe possess equal
authority as sacramental declarations of the Presence of God; and
startling and even revolting to the unaccustomed taste--is in
direct proportion to the exaltation of their spiritual life.  The
da Todì, Ruysbroeck, Boehme, abound in illustrations of this law.
desperate attempts to communicate his ecstasy and persuade other
men to share it--a constant juxtaposition of concrete and
metaphysical language; swift alternations between the most
intensely anthropomorphic, the most subtly philosophical, ways of
alternation, and its entire naturalness for the mind which
employs it, is rooted in his concept, or vision, of the Nature of
go far in our understanding of his poems.
Kabîr belongs to that small group of supreme mystics--amongst
whom St.  Augustine, Ruysbroeck, and the Sûfî poet Jalâlu'ddîn
Rûmî are perhaps the chief--who have achieved that which we might
perpetual opposition between the personal and impersonal, the
transcendent and immanent, static and dynamic aspects of the
Divine Nature; between the Absolute of philosophy and the "sure
true Friend" of devotional religion.  They have done this, not by
other; but by ascending to a height of spiritual intuition at
which they are, as Ruysbroeck said, "melted and merged in the
Unity," and perceived as the completing opposites of a perfect
Whole.  This proceeding entails for them--and both Kabîr and
Ruysbroeck expressly acknowledge it--a universe of three orders:
Becoming, Being, and that which is "More than Being," i.e., God.
final abstraction, but the one actuality.  He inspires, supports,
of Becoming and the unconditioned, non-successional, infinite
world of Being; yet utterly transcends them both.  He is the
omnipresent Reality, the "All-pervading" within Whom "the worlds
are being told like beads."  In His personal aspect He is the
"beloved Fakir," teaching and companioning each soul.  Considered
these are at best partial aspects of His nature, mutually
corrective: as the Persons in the Christian doctrine of the
Trinity--to which this theological diagram bears a striking
resemblance--represent different and compensating experiences of
the Divine Unity within which they are resumed.  As Ruysbroeck
discerned a plane of reality upon which "we can speak no more of
Father, Son, and Holy Spirit, but only of One Being, the very
substance of the Divine Persons"; so Kabîr says that "beyond both
Brahma, then, is the Ineffable Fact compared with which "the
distinction of the Conditioned from the Unconditioned is but a
word": at once the utterly transcendent One of Absolutist
philosophy, and the personal Lover of the individual soul--
"common to all and special to each," as one Christian mystic has
it.  The need felt by Kabîr for both these ways of describing
Reality is a proof of the richness and balance of his spiritual
experience; which neither cosmic nor anthropomorphic symbols,
taken alone, could express.  More absolute than the Absolute,
more personal than the human mind, Brahma therefore exceeds
whilst He includes all the concepts of philosophy, all the
passionate intuitions of the heart.  He is the Great Affirmation,
satisfaction of desire.  His creative word is the <i>Om</i> or
"Everlasting Yea."  The negative philosophy which strips from the
which He is not--reduces Him to an "Emptiness," is abhorrent to
this most vital of poets.--Brahma, he says, "may never be found
in abstractions."  He is the One Love who Pervades the world.,
discerned in His fullness only by the eyes of love; and those who
ineffable secret of the universe.  [Footnote: Nos. VII, XXVI,
Now Kabîr, achieving this synthesis between the personal and
cosmic aspects of the Divine Nature, eludes the three great
dangers which threaten mystical religion.
First, he escapes the excessive emotionalism, the tendency to
an exclusively anthropomorphic devotion, which results from an
unrestricted cult of Divine Personality, especially under an
incarnational form; seen in India in the exaggerations of
Krishna worship, in Europe in the sentimental extravagances of
certain Christian saints.
Next, he is protected from the soul-destroying conclusions of
pure monism, inevitable if its logical implications are pressed
home: that is, the identity of substance between God and the
soul, with its corollary of the total absorption of that soul in
the Being of God as the goal of the spiritual life.  For the
thorough-going monist the soul, in so far as it is real, is
substantially identical with God; and the true object of
existence is the making patent of this latent identity, the
realization which finds expression in the Vedântist formula "That
leaves no place for personality.  This eternal distinction, the
mysterious union-in-separateness of God and the soul, is a
necessary doctrine of all sane mysticism; for no scheme which
reformation preached by Râmânuja; the principle of which had
descended through Râmânanda to Kabîr.
Last, the warmly human and direct apprehension of God as the
supreme Object of love, the soul's comrade, teacher, and
bridegroom, which is so passionately and frequently expressed in
Kabîr's poems, balances and controls those abstract tendencies
which are inherent in the metaphysical side of his vision of
Reality: and prevents it from degenerating into that sterile
worship of intellectual formulæ which became the curse of the
Vedântist school.  For the mere intellectualist, as for the mere
pietist, he has little approbation.  [Footnote: Cf. especially
Nos. LIX, LXVII, LXXV, XC, XCI.]  Love is throughout his
"absolute sole Lord": the unique source of the more abundant life
and infinite worlds.  All is soaked in love: that love which he
described in almost Johannine language as the "Form of God."
The whole of creation is the Play of the Eternal Lover; the
living, changing, growing expression of Brahma's love and joy.
As these twin passions preside over the generation of human life,
governing the creative acts of God.  His manifestation is love;
His activity is joy.  Creation springs from one glad act of
affirmation: the Everlasting Yea, perpetually uttered within the
depths of the Divine Nature.  [Footnote: Nos. XVII, XXVI, LXXVI,
LXXXII.]  In accordance with this concept of the universe as a
Love-Game which eternally goes forward, a progressive
manifestation of Brahma--one of the many notions which he adopted
by his poetic genius--movement, rhythm, perpetual change, forms
an integral part of Kabîr's vision of Reality.  Though the
Eternal and Absolute is ever present to his consciousness, yet
his concept of the Divine Nature is essentially dynamic.  It is
by the symbols of motion that he most often tries to convey it to
modern picture of that Eternal Swing of the Universe which is
"held by the cords of love."  [Footnote: No. XVI.]
It is a marked characteristic of mystical literature that the
great contemplatives, in their effort to convey to us the nature
of their communion with the supersensuous, are inevitably driven
to employ some form of sensuous imagery: coarse and inaccurate as
senses, that the fruits of intuition itself are instinctively
referred to them.  In that intuition it seems to the mystics that
perfect fulfilment.  Hence their constant declaration that they
melody, they <i>taste</i> the sweetness of the Lord, they know an
verily seeing and fully feeling, Him spiritually hearing and Him
delectably smelling and sweetly swallowing," as Julian of Norwich
automatisms, these parallels between sense and spirit may present
dramatizations of the symbolism under which the mystic tends
instinctively to represent his spiritual intuition to the surface
feels to be most expressive of Reality, his peculiar
idiosyncrasies come out.
Now Kabîr, as we might expect in one whose reactions to the
spiritual order were so wide and various, uses by turn all the
symbols of sense.  He tells us that he has "seen without sight"
the effulgence of Brahma, tasted the divine nectar, felt the
ecstatic contact of Reality, smelt the fragrance of the heavenly
flowers.  But he was essentially a poet and musician: rhythm and
harmony were to him the garments of beauty and truth.  Hence in
his lyrics he shows himself to be, like Richard Rolle, above all
things a musical mystic.  Creation, he says again and again, is
full of music: it <i>is</i> music.  At the heart of the Universe
"white music is blossoming": love weaves the melody, whilst
renunciation beats the time.  It can be heard in the home as well
every man is a lyre on which Brahma, "the source of all music,"
plays.  Everywhere Kabîr discerns the "Unstruck Music of the
Infinite"--that celestial melody which the angel played to St.
Francis, that ghostly symphony which filled the soul of Rolle
with ecstatic joy.  [Footnote: Nos. XVII, XVIII, XXXIX, XLI, LIV,
from the Hindu Pantheon and constantly uses, is that of Krishna
the Divine Flute Player.  [Footnote: Nos. L, LIII, LXVIII.]  He
sees the supernal music, too, in its visual embodiment, as
rhythmical movement: that mysterious dance of the universe before
expression of the infinite rapture of the Immanent God.'
Yet in this wide and rapturous vision of the universe Kabîr
never loses touch with diurnal existence, never forgets the
common life.  His feet are firmly planted upon earth; his lofty
and passionate apprehensions are perpetually controlled by the
activity of a sane and vigorous intellect, by the alert
commonsense so often found in persons of real mystical genius.
The constant insistence on simplicity and directness, the hatred
of all abstractions and philosophizings,[Footnote: Nos. XXVI,
XXXII, LXXVI] the ruthless criticism of external religion: these
are amongst his most marked characteristics.  God is the Root
whence all manifestations, "material" and "spiritual," alike
proceed; [Footnote: Nos. LXXV, LXXVIII, LXXX, XC.] and God is
the only need of man--"happiness shall be yours when you come to
the Root."  [Footnote: No. LXXX.]  Hence to those who keep their
different angles from which the soul may approach that simple
union with Brahma which is its goal; and are useful only in so
faras they contribute to this consummation.  So thorough-going is
twines together--as he might have woven together contrasting
threads upon his loom--symbols and ideas drawn from the most
violent and conflicting philosophies and faiths.  All are needed,
Upanishad called "the Sun-coloured Being who is beyond this
Darkness": as all the colours of the spectrum are needed if we
would demonstrate the simple richness of white light.  In thus
adapting traditional materials to his own use he follows a method
for originality of form.  They will pour their wine into almost
any vessel that comes to hand: generally using by preference--and
some of Kabîr's finest poems have as their subjects the
In the collection of songs here translated there will be found
examples which illustrate nearly every aspect of Kabîr's thought,
the despair, the still beatitude, the eager self-devotion, the
flashes of wide illumination, the moments of intimate love.  His
wide and deep vision of the universe, the "Eternal Sport" of
creation (LXXXII), the worlds being "told like beads" within the
Being of God (XIV, XVI, XVII, LXXVI), is here seen balanced by
his lovely and delicate sense of intimate communion with the
poem XXXIV).  As these apparently paradoxical views of Reality
are resolved in Brâhma, so all other opposites are reconciled in
insult to the Divine Lover (XLII, LXIX) and the devices of
professional sanctity are useless apart from charity and purity
of soul (LIV, LXV, LXVI).  Since all things, and especially the
heart of man, are God-inhabited, God-possessed (XXVI, LVI, LXXVI,
"In the home is reality."  There love and detachment, bondage and
Kabîr says: "None but Brahma can evoke its melodies."
"This version of Kabîr's songs is chiefly the work of
Mr. Rabîndranâth Tagore, the trend of whose mystical genius makes
sympathetic interpreter of Kabîr's vision and thought.  It has
been based upon the printed Hindî text with Bengali translation
of Mr. Kshiti Mohan Sen; who has gathered from many sources--
sometimes from books and manuscripts, sometimes from the lips of
wandering ascetics and minstrels--a large collection of poems
and hymns to which Kabîr's name is attached, and carefully
sifted the authentic songs from the many spurious works now
attributed to him.  These painstaking labours alone have made
the present undertaking possible.
We have also had before us a manuscript English translation of
Mohan Sen's text, and a prose essay upon Kabîr from the same
hand.  From these we have derived great assistance.  A
considerable number of readings from the translation have been
adopted by us; whilst several of the facts mentioned in the essay
generous and unselfish manner in which he has placed his work at
our disposal.
The reference of the headlines of the poems is to:
Sântiniketana; Kabîr by Srî Kshitimohan Sen, 4 parts,
For some assistance in normalizing the transliteration we are
indebted to Professor J. F. Blumhardt.
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
Lo!  I am beside thee.
I am neither in temple nor in mosque: I am neither in Kaaba nor
Neither am I in rites and ceremonies, nor in Yoga and
renunciation.
If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me: thou shalt
meet Me in a moment of time.
Kabîr says, "O Sadhu!  God is the breath of all breath."
It is needless to ask of a saint the caste to which he belongs;
For the priest, the warrior.  the tradesman, and all the
thirty-six castes, alike are seeking for God.
It is but folly to ask what the caste of a saint may be;
The barber has sought God, the washerwoman, and the carpenter--
Even Raidas was a seeker after God.
The Rishi Swapacha was a tanner by caste.
Hindus and Moslems alike have achieved that End, where remains no
O friend!  hope for Him whilst you live, know whilst you live,
understand whilst you live: for in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living, what hope of
deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru, have faith in the true
Kabîr says: "It is the Spirit of the quest which helps; I am the
slave of this Spirit of the quest."
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O Friend! go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus, and there
gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
Tell me, Brother, how can I renounce Maya?
When I gave up the tying of ribbons, still I tied my garment
about me:
When I gave up tying my garment, still I covered my body in its
folds.
So, when I give up passion, I see that anger remains;
And when I renounce anger, greed is with me still;
And when greed is vanquished, pride and vainglory remain;
When the mind is detached and casts Maya away, still it clings to
Kabîr says, "Listen to me, dear Sadhu!  the true path is rarely
The moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The moon is within me, and so is the sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf
ears cannot hear it.
So long as man clamours for the <i>I</i> and the <i>Mine</i>,
his works are as naught:
When all love of the <i>I</i> and the <i>Mine</i> is dead, then
the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.
The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it
wanders in quest of grass.
When He Himself reveals Himself, Brahma brings into manifestation
As the seed is in the plant, as the shade is in the tree, as the
void is in the sky, as infinite forms are in the void--
So from beyond the Infinite, the Infinite comes; and from the
Infinite the finite extends.
The creature is in Brahma, and Brahma is in the creature: they
are ever distinct, yet ever united.
He Himself is the tree, the seed, and the germ.
He Himself is the flower, the fruit, and the shade.
He Himself is the sun, the light, and the lighted.
He Himself is Brahma, creature, and Maya.
He Himself is the manifold form, the infinite space;
He is the breath, the word, and the meaning.
He Himself is the limit and the limitless: and beyond both the
limited and the limitless is He, the Pure Being.
He is the Immanent Mind in Brahma and in the creature.
The Supreme Soul is seen within the soul,
The Point is seen within the Supreme Soul,
And within the Point, the reflection is seen again.
Kabîr is blest because he has this supreme vision!
Within this earthen vessel are bowers and groves, and within it
Within this vessel are the seven oceans and the unnumbered stars.
And within this vessel the Eternal soundeth, and the spring wells
O How may I ever express that secret word?
O how can I say He is not like this, and He is like that?
If I say that He is within me, the universe is ashamed:
If I say that He is without me, it is falsehood.
He makes the inner and the outer worlds to be indivisibly one;
The conscious and the unconscious, both are His footstools.
He is neither manifest nor hidden, He is neither revealed nor
unrevealed:
There are no words to tell that which He is.
To Thee Thou hast drawn my love, O Fakir!
I was sleeping in my own chamber, and Thou didst awaken me;
striking me with Thy voice, O Fakir!
I was drowning in the deeps of the ocean of this world, and
Thou didst save me: upholding me with Thine arm, O Fakir!
Only one word and no second--and Thou hast made me tear off all
my bonds, O Fakir!
Kabîr says, "Thou hast united Thy heart to my heart, O Fakir!"
I played day and night with my comrades, and now I am greatly
afraid.
So high is my Lord's palace, my heart trembles to mount its
stairs: yet I must not be shy, if I would enjoy His love.
My heart must cleave to my Lover; I must withdraw my veil, and
meet Him with all my body:
Mine eyes must perform the ceremony of the lamps of love.
Kabîr says: "Listen to me, friend: he understands who loves.  If
you feel not love's longing for your Beloved One, it is vain
to adorn your body, vain to put unguent on your eyelids."
Tell me, O Swan, your ancient tale.
From what land do you come, O Swan? to what shore will you fly?
Where would you take your rest, O Swan, and what do you seek?
Even this morning, O Swan, awake, arise, follow me!
There is a land where no doubt nor sorrow have rule: where the
terror of Death is no more.
There the woods of spring are a-bloom, and the fragrant scent "He
There the bee of the heart is deeply immersed, and desires no
other joy.
O Lord Increate, who will serve Thee?
Every votary offers his worship to the God of his own creation:
each day he receives service--
None seek Him, the Perfect: Brahma, the Indivisible Lord.
They believe in ten Avatars; but no Avatar can be the Infinite
Spirit, for he suffers the results of his deeds:
The Supreme One must be other than this.
The Yogi, the Sanyasi, the Ascetics, are disputing one with
another:
Kabîr says, "O brother!  he who has seen that radiance of love,
he is saved."
The river and its waves are one
surf: where is the difference between the river and its waves?
When the wave rises, it is the water; and when it falls, it is
the same water again.  Tell me, Sir, where is the distinction?
Because it has been named as wave, shall it no longer be
considered as water?
Within the Supreme Brahma, the worlds are being told like beads:
Look upon that rosary with the eyes of wisdom.
Where Spring, the lord of the seasons, reigneth, there the
Unstruck Music sounds of itself,
There the streams of light flow in all directions;
Few are the men who can cross to that shore!
There, where millions of Krishnas stand with hands folded,
Where millions of Vishnus bow their heads,
Where millions of Brahmâs are reading the Vedas,
Where millions of Shivas are lost in contemplation,
Where millions of Indras dwell in the sky,
Where the demi-gods and the munis are unnumbered,
flowers dwells in those deeps.
Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has
Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never
ceases its sway.
Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their
courses are there:
Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on.
All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and
the Lord Himself taking form:
And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.
The light of the sun, the moon, and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love's
detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabîr
"My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky."
Do you know how the moments perform their adoration?
Waving its row of lamps, the universe sings in worship day and
night,
There are the hidden banner and the secret canopy:
There the sound of the unseen bells is heard.
Kabîr says: "There adoration never ceases; there the Lord of the
Universe sitteth on His throne."
The whole world does its works and commits its errors: but few
are the lovers who know the Beloved.
The devout seeker is he who mingles in his heart the double
currents of love and detachment, like the mingling of the
streams of Ganges and Jumna;
In his heart the sacred water flows day and night; and thus the
round of births and deaths is brought to an end.
Behold what wonderful rest is in the Supreme Spirit!  and he
enjoys it, who makes himself meet for it.
Held by the cords of love, the swing of the Ocean of Joy sways to
See what a lotus blooms there without water!  and Kabîr says
"My heart's bee drinks its nectar."
What a wonderful lotus it is, that blooms at the heart of the
spinning wheel of the universe!  Only a few pure souls know of
its true delight.
Music is all around it, and there the heart partakes of the joy
Kabîr says: "Dive thou into that Ocean of sweetness: thus let all
Behold how the thirst of the five senses is quenched there!  and
the three forms of misery are no more!
Kabîr says: "It is the sport of the Unattainable One: look
within, and behold how the moon-beams of that Hidden One shine
There falls the rhythmic beat of life and death:
Rapture wells forth, and all space is radiant with light.
There the Unstruck Music is sounded; it is the music of the love
of the three worlds.
There millions of lamps of sun and of moon are burning;
There the drum beats, and the lover swings in play.
There love-songs resound, and light rains in showers; and the
worshipper is entranced in the taste of the heavenly nectar.
Look upon life and death; there is no separation between them,
The right hand and the left hand are one and the same.
Kabîr says: "There the wise man is speechless; for this truth may
I have had my Seat on the Self-poised One,
I have drunk of the Cup of the Ineffable,
I have found the Key of the Mystery,
I have reached the Root of Union.
Travelling by no track, I have come to the Sorrowless Land: very
easily has the mercy of the great Lord come upon me.
They have sung of Him as infinite and unattainable: but I in my
meditations have seen Him without sight.
That is indeed the sorrowless land, and none know the path that
leads there:
Only he who is on that path has surely transcended all sorrow.
Wonderful is that land of rest, to which no merit can win;
It is the wise who has seen it, it is the wise who has sung of
This is the Ultimate Word: but can any express its marvellous
savour?
He who has savoured it once, he knows what joy it can give.
Kabîr says: "Knowing it, the ignorant man becomes wise, and the
wise man becomes speechless and silent,
The worshipper is utterly inebriated,
His wisdom and his detachment are made perfect;
He drinks from the cup of the inbreathings and the outbreathings
of love."
There the whole sky is filled with sound, and there that music is
There the game of pleasure and pain does not cease.
Kabîr says: "If you merge your life in the Ocean of Life, you
will find your life in the Supreme Land of Bliss."
What a frenzy of ecstasy there is in every hour! and the
worshipper is pressing out and drinking the essence of the
hours: he lives in the life of Brahma.
I speak truth, for I have accepted truth in life; I am now
attached to truth, I have swept all tinsel away.
Kabîr says: "Thus is the worshipper set free from fear; thus have
There the sky is filled with music:
There it rains nectar:
There the harp-strings jingle, and there the drums beat.
What a secret splendour is there, in the mansion of the sky!
There no mention is made of the rising and the setting of the
In the ocean of manifestation, which is the light of love, day
and night are felt to be one.
Joy for ever, no sorrow,--no struggle!
There have I seen joy filled to the brim, perfection of joy;
No place for error is there.
Kabîr says: "There have I witnessed the sport of One Bliss!"
I have known in my body the sport of the universe: I have escaped
The inward and the outward are become as one sky, the Infinite
and the finite are united: I am drunken with the sight of this
This Light of Thine fulfils the universe: the lamp of love that
burns on the salver of knowledge.
Kabîr says: "There error cannot enter, and the conflict of life
and death is felt no more."
The middle region of the sky, wherein the spirit dwelleth, is
radiant with the music of light;
There, where the pure and white music blossoms, my Lord takes His
In the wondrous effulgence of each hair of His body, the
brightness of millions of suns and of moons is lost.
On that shore there is a city, where the rain of nectar pours and
Kabîr says: "Come, O Dharmadas!  and see my great Lord's Durbar."
O my heart!  the Supreme Spirit, the great Master, is near you:
wake, oh wake!
You have slept for unnumbered ages; this morning will you not
wake?
To what shore would you cross, O my heart?  there is no traveller
Where is the movement, where is the rest, on that shore?
There is no water; no boat, no boatman, is there;
There is not so much as a rope to tow the boat, nor a man to draw
No earth, no sky, no time, no thing, is there: no shore, no ford!
that shall still the thirst of the soul?  You shall find naught
in that emptiness.
Be strong, and enter into your own body: for there your foothold
is firm.  Consider it well, O my heart! go not elsewhere,
Kabîr says: "Put all imaginations away, and stand fast in that
which you are."
Lamps burn in every house, O blind one! and you cannot see them.
One day your eyes shall suddenly be opened, and you shall see:
and the fetters of death will fall from you.
There is nothing to say or to hear, there is nothing to do: it is
Because he lives in solitude, therefore the Yogi says that his
home is far away.
Your Lord is near: yet you are climbing the palm-tree to seek
The Brâhman priest goes from house to house and initiates people
into faith:
Alas!  the true fountain of life is beside you., and you have set
Kabîr says: "I may never express how sweet my Lord is.  Yoga and
the telling of beads, virtue and vice--these are naught to Him."
O brother, my heart yearns for that true Guru, who fills the cup
of true love, and drinks of it himself, and offers it then to
He removes the veil from the eyes, and gives the true Vision of
He reveals the worlds in Him, and makes me to hear the Unstruck
He shows joy and sorrow to be one:
He fills all utterance with love.
Kabîr says: "Verily he has no fear, who has such a Guru to lead
him to the shelter of safety!"
The shadows of evening fall thick and deep, and the darkness of
love envelops the body and the mind.
Open the window to the west, and be lost in the sky of love;
Drink the sweet honey that steeps the petals of the lotus of the
heart.
Receive the waves in your body: what splendour is in the region
of the sea!
Hark!  the sounds of conches and bells are rising.
Kabîr says: "O brother, behold!  the Lord is in this vessel of my
More than all else do I cherish at heart that love which makes me
It is like the lotus, which lives in the water and blooms in the
water: yet the water cannot touch its petals, they open beyond
its reach.
It is like a wife, who enters the fire at the bidding of love.
She burns and lets others grieve, yet never dishonours love.
This ocean of the world is hard to cross: its waters are very
deep.  Kabîr says: "Listen to me, O Sadhu! few there are who
have reached its end."
My Lord hides Himself, and my Lord wonderfully reveals Himself:
My Lord has encompassed me with hardness, and my Lord has cast
down my limitations.
My Lord brings to me words of sorrow and words of joy, and He
Himself heals their strife.
I will offer my body and mind to my Lord: I will give up my life,
All things are created by the Om;
The love-form is His body.
He is without form, without quality, without decay:
Seek thou union with Him!
But that formless God takes a thousand forms in the eyes of His
creatures:
He is pure and indestructible,
His form is infinite and fathomless,
He dances in rapture, and waves of form arise from His dance.
The body and the mind cannot contain themselves, when they are
touched by His great joy.
He is immersed in all consciousness, all joys, and all sorrows;
He has no beginning and no end;
He holds all within His bliss.
It is the mercy of my true Guru that has made me to know the
unknown;
I have learned from Him how to walk without feet, to see without
eyes, to hear without ears, to drink without mouth, to fly
without wings;
I have brought my love and my meditation into the land where
there is no sun and moon, nor day and night.
Without eating, I have tasted of the sweetness of nectar; and
without water, I have quenched my thirst.
Where there is the response of delight, there is the fullness of
joy.  Before whom can that joy be uttered?
Kabîr says: "The Guru is great beyond words, and great is the
good fortune of the disciple."
Before the Unconditioned, the Conditioned dances: "Thou and I are
The Guru comes, and bows down before the disciple:
This is the greatest of wonders.
Gorakhnath asks Kabîr:
"Tell me, O Kabîr, when did your vocation begin?  Where did your
love have its rise?"
Kabîr answers:
"When He whose forms are manifold had not begun His play: when
there was no Guru, and no disciple: when the world was not
spread out: when the Supreme One was alone--
Then I became an ascetic; then, O Gorakh, my love was drawn to
Brahma did not hold the crown on his head; the god Vishnu was not
was instructed in Yoga.
I became suddenly revealed in Benares, and Râmânanda illumined
I brought with me the thirst for the Infinite, and I have come
for the meeting with Him.
In simplicity will I unite with the Simple One; my love will
surge up.
O Gorakh, march thou with His music!"
On this tree is a bird: it dances in the joy of life.
None knows where it is: and who knows what the burden of its
music may be?
Where the branches throw a deep shade, there does it have its
nest: and it comes in the evening and flies away in the morning,
and says not a word of that which it means.
None tell me of this bird that sings within me.
It is neither coloured nor colourless: it has neither form nor
outline:
It sits in the shadow of love.
It dwells within the Unattainable, the Infinite, and the Eternal;
Kabîr says: "O brother Sadhu! deep is the mystery.  Let wise men
seek to know where rests that bird."
A sore pain troubles me day and night, and I cannot sleep;
I long for the meeting with my Beloved, and my father's house
gives me pleasure no more.
The gates of the sky are opened, the temple is revealed:
I meet my husband, and leave at His feet the offering of my body
and my mind.
Dance, my heart!  dance to-day with joy.
The strains of love fill the days and the nights with music, and
the world is listening to its melodies:
Mad with joy, life and death dance to the rhythm of this music.
The hills and the sea and the earth dance.  The world of man
dances in laughter and tears.
Why put on the robe of the monk, and live aloof from the world in
Behold!  my heart dances in the delight of a hundred arts; and
the Creator is well pleased.
Where is the need of words, when love has made drunken the heart?
again?
When its load was light, the pan of the balance went up: now it
is full, where is the need for weighing?
The swan has taken its flight to the lake beyond the mountains;
why should it search for the pools and ditches any more?
Your Lord dwells within you: why need your outward eyes be
opened?
Kabîr says: "Listen, my brother!  my Lord, who ravishes my eyes,
has united Himself with me."
How could the love between Thee and me sever?
As the leaf of the lotus abides on the water: so thou art my
Lord, and I am Thy servant.
As the night-bird Chakor gazes all night at the moon: so Thou art
From the beginning until the ending of time, there is love
between Thee and me; and how shall such love be extinguished?
Kabîr says: "As the river enters into the ocean, so my heart
touches Thee."
My body and my mind are grieved for the want of Thee;
O my Beloved!  come to my house.
When people say I am Thy bride, I am ashamed; for I have not
touched Thy heart with my heart.
Then what is this love of mine?  I have no taste for food, I have
As water is to the thirsty, so is the lover to the bride.  Who is
Kabîr is restless: he is dying for sight of Him.
O friend, awake, and sleep no more!
The night is over and gone, would you lose your day also?
O foolish woman!  you have lost all whilst you slept.
Your lover is wise, and you are foolish, O woman!
You never prepared the bed of your husband:
O mad one! you passed your time in silly play.
Your youth was passed in vain, for you did not know your Lord;
Wake, wake!  See!  your bed is empty: He left you in the night.
Kabîr says: "Only she wakes, whose heart is pierced with the
arrow of His music."
Where is the night, when the sun is shining?  If it is night,
then the sun withdraws its light.  Where knowledge is, can
ignorance endure?
If there be ignorance, then knowledge must die.
If there be lust, how can love be there?  Where there is love,
there is no lust.
Lay hold on your sword, and join in the fight.  Fight, O my
brother, as long as life lasts.
Strike off your enemy's head, and there make an end of him
quickly: then come, and bow your head at your King's Durbar.
He who is brave, never forsakes the battle: he who flies from it
is no true fighter.
In the field of this body a great war goes forward, against
passion, anger, pride, and greed:
It is in the kingdom of truth, contentment and purity, that this
battle is raging; and the sword that rings forth most loudly is
the sword of His Name.
Kabîr says: "When a brave knight takes the field, a host of
cowards is put to flight.
It is a hard fight and a weary one, this fight of the
truth-seeker: for the vow of the truth-seeker is more hard than
that of the warrior, or of the widowed wife who would follow her
husband.
For the warrior fights for a few hours, and the widow's struggle
with death is soon ended:
But the truth-seeker's battle goes on day and night, as long as
life lasts it never ceases."
The lock of error shuts the gate, open it with the key of love:
Thus, by opening the door, thou shalt wake the Beloved.
Kabîr says: "O brother!  do not pass by such good fortune as
O friend! this body is His lyre; He tightens its strings, and
draws from it the melody of Brahma.
If the strings snap and the keys slacken, then to dust must this
instrument of dust return:
Kabîr says: "None but Brahma can evoke its melodies."
He is dear to me indeed who can call back the wanderer to his
home.  In the home is the true union, in the home is enjoyment
of life: why should I forsake my home and wander in the forest?
If Brahma helps me to realize truth, verily I will find both
bondage and deliverance in home.
He is dear to me indeed who has power to dive deep into Brahma;
whose mind loses itself with ease in His contemplation.
He is dear to me who knows Brahma, and can dwell on His supreme
truth in meditation; and who can play the melody of the
Infinite by uniting love and renunciation in life.
Kabîr says: "The home is the abiding place; in the home is
reality; the home helps to attain Him Who is real.  So stay
where you are, and all things shall come to you in time."
O sadhu!  the simple union is the best.  Since the day when I met
I shut not my eyes, I close not my ears, I do not mortify my
body;
I see with eyes open and smile, and behold His beauty everywhere:
whatever I do., it becomes His worship.
The rising and the setting are one to me; all contradictions are
solved.
Wherever I go, I move round Him,
All I achieve is His service:
When I lie down, I lie prostrate at His feet.
He is the only adorable one to me: I have none other.
My tongue has left off impure words, it sings His glory day and
night:
Whether I rise or sit down, I can never forget Him; for the
rhythm of His music beats in my ears.
Kabîr says: "My heart is frenzied, and I disclose in my soul what
transcends all pleasure and pain."
There is nothing but water at the holy bathing places; and I know
The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak; I know, for I
have cried aloud to them.
The Purana and the Koran are mere words; lifting up the curtain,
I have seen.
Kabîr gives utterance to the words of experience; and he knows
very well that all other things are untrue.
I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty:
You do not see that the Real is in your home, and you wander from
Here is the truth!  Go where you will, to Benares or to Mathura;
if you do not find your soul, the world is unreal to you.
The Hidden Banner is planted in the temple of the sky; there the
spread.
There the light of the sun and the moon is shining: still your
mind to silence before that splendour.
Kabîr says: "He who has drunk of this nectar, wanders like one
who is mad."
Who are you, and whence do you come?
Where dwells that Supreme Spirit, and how does He have His sport
with all created things?
The fire is in the wood; but who awakens it suddenly?  Then it
turns to ashes, and where goes the force of the fire?
The true guru teaches that He has neither limit nor infinitude.
Kabîr says: "Brahma suits His language to the understanding of
His hearer."
O sadhu!  purify your body in the simple way.
As the seed is within the banyan tree, and within the seed are
the flowers, the fruits, and the shade:
So the germ is within the body, and within that germ is the body
again.
The fire, the air, the water, the earth, and the aether; you
cannot have these outside of Him.
O, Kazi, O Pundit, consider it well: what is there that is not in
The water-filled pitcher is placed upon water, it has water
within and without.
It should not be given a name, lest it call forth the error of
dualism.
Kabîr says: "Listen to the Word, the Truth, which is your
essence.  He speaks the Word to Himself; and He Himself is the
There is a strange tree, which stands without roots and bears
fruits without blossoming;
It has no branches and no leaves, it is lotus all over.
Two birds sing there; one is the Guru, and the other the
disciple:
The disciple chooses the manifold fruits of life and tastes them,
What Kabîr says is hard to understand: "The bird is beyond
seeking, yet it is most clearly visible.  The Formless is in
the midst of all forms.  I sing the glory of forms."
I have stilled my restless mind, and my heart is radiant: for in
Thatness I have seen beyond That-ness.  In company I have seen
Living in bondage, I have set myself free: I have broken away
from the clutch of all narrowness.
Kabîr says: "I have attained the unattainable, and my heart is
coloured with the colour of love."
That which you see is not: and for that which is, you have no
words.
Unless you see, you believe not: what is told you you cannot
accept.
He who is discerning knows by the word; and the ignorant stands
gaping.
Some contemplate the Formless, and others meditate on form: but
the wise man knows that Brahma is beyond both.
That beauty of His is not seen of the eye: that metre of His is
not heard of the ear.
Kabîr says: "He who has found both love and renunciation never
descends to death."
The flute of the Infinite is played without ceasing, and its
sound is love:
When love renounces all limits, it reaches truth.
How widely the fragrance spreads!  It has no end, nothing stands
in its way.
The form of this melody is bright like a million suns:
incomparably sounds the vina, the vina of the notes of truth.
Dear friend, I am eager to meet my Beloved!  My youth has
flowered, and the pain of separation from Him troubles my
breast.
I am wandering yet in the alleys of knowledge without purpose,
but I have received His news in these alleys of knowledge.
I have a letter from my Beloved: in this letter is an unutterable
Kabîr says: "O my loving friend!  I have got for my gift the
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,
Kabîr says: "Listen, my friend!  there is no other satisfaction,
save in the encounter with the Beloved."
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?
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
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."
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.
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.
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?
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."
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
Do not deceive thyself with the witness of the Scriptures:
Love is something other than this, and he who has sought it truly
The savour of wandering in the ocean of deathless life has rid me
As the tree is in the seed, so all diseases are in this asking.
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
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."
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?
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.
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
Put away all fear for this poor body.
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
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."
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
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?
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."
If God be within the mosque, then to whom does this world belong?
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
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."
Go thou to the company of the good, where the Beloved One has His
Take all thy thoughts and love and instruction from thence.
Let that assembly be burnt to ashes where His Name is not spoken!
Waver no more, think only of the Beloved;
Set not thy heart on the worship of other gods, there is no worth
Kabîr deliberates and says: "Thus thou shalt never find the
Some look for it in the east, and some in the west; some in the
water and some amongst stones.
But the servant Kabîr has appraised it at its true value, and has
The palanquin came to take me away to my husband's home, and it
sent through my heart a thrill of joy;
But the bearers have brought me into the lonely forest, where I
have no one of my own.
O bearers, I entreat you by your feet, wait but a moment longer:
let me go back to my kinsmen and friends, and take my leave of
them.
The servant Kabîr sings: "O Sadhu!  finish your buying and
selling, have done with your good and your bad: for there are
no markets and no shops in the land to which you go."
O my heart! you have not known all the secrets of this city of
love: in ignorance you came, and in ignorance you return.
O my friend, what have you done with this life?  You have taken
on your head the burden heavy with stones, and who is to
lighten it for you?
Your Friend stands on the other shore, but you never think in
your mind how you may meet with Him:
The boat is broken, and yet you sit ever upon the bank; and thus
you are beaten to no purpose by the waves.
The servant Kabîr asks you to consider; who is there that shall
befriend you at the last?
You are alone, you have no companion: you will suffer the
consequences of your own deeds.
The Vedas say that the Unconditioned stands beyond the world of
O woman, what does it avail thee to dispute whether He is beyond
all or in all?
See thou everything as thine own dwelling place: the mist of
pleasure and pain can never spread there.
There Brahma is revealed day and night: there light is His
garment, light is His seat, light rests on thy head.
Kabîr says: "The Master, who is true, He is all light."
Open your eyes of love, and see Him who pervades this world I
consider it well, and know that this is your own country.
When you meet the true Guru, He will awaken your heart;
He will tell you the secret of love and detachment, and then you
will know indeed that He transcends this universe.
This world is the City of Truth, its maze of paths enchants the
heart:
We can reach the goal without crossing the road, such is the
sport unending.
Where the ring of manifold joys ever dances about Him, there is
the sport of Eternal Bliss.
When we know this, then all our receiving and renouncing is
over;
Thenceforth the heat of having shall never scorch us more.
He is the Ultimate Rest unbounded:
He has spread His form of love throughout all the world.
From that Ray which is Truth, streams of new forms are
perpetually springing: and He pervades those forms.
All the gardens and groves and bowers are abounding with blossom;
There the swan plays a wonderful game,
There the Unstruck Music eddies around the Infinite One;
There in the midst the Throne of the Unheld is shining, whereon
the great Being sits--
Millions of suns are shamed by the radiance of a single hair of
His body.
On the harp of the road what true melodies are being sounded!
and its notes pierce the heart:
There the Eternal Fountain is playing its endless life-streams of
They call Him Emptiness who is the Truth of truths, in Whom all
truths are stored!
There within Him creation goes forward, which is beyond all
philosophy; for philosophy cannot attain to Him:
There is an endless world, O my Brother! and there is the
Nameless Being, of whom naught can be said.
Only he knows it who has reached that region: it is other than
all that is heard and said.
No form, no body, no length, no breadth is seen there: how can I
tell you that which it is?
He comes to the Path of the Infinite on whom the grace of the
Lord descends: he is freed from births and deaths who attains
Kabîr says: "It cannot be told by the words of the mouth, it
cannot be written on paper:
be explained?"
O my heart!  let us go to that country where dwells the Beloved,
the ravisher of my heart!
There Love is filling her pitcher from the well, yet she has no
rope wherewith to draw water;
There the clouds do not cover the sky, yet the rain falls down in
O bodiless one!  do not sit on your doorstep; go forth and bathe
yourself in that rain!
There it is ever moonlight and never dark; and who speaks of one
sun only?  that land is illuminate with the rays of a million
suns.
Kabîr says: "O Sadhu! hear my deathless words.  If you want your
own good, examine and consider them well.
You have estranged yourself from the Creator, of whom you have
sprung: you have lost your reason, you have bought death.
All doctrines and all teachings are sprung from Him, from Him
they grow: know this for certain, and have no fear.
Hear from me the tidings of this great truth!
Whose name do you sing, and on whom do you meditate?  O, come
forth from this entanglement!
He dwells at the heart of all things, so why take refuge in empty
If you place the Guru at a distance from you, then it is but the
distance that you honour:
If indeed the Master be far away, then who is it else that is
creating this world?
When you think that He is not here, then you wander further and
further away, and seek Him in vain with tears.
Where He is far off, there He is unattainable: where He is near,
He is very bliss.
Kabîr says: "Lest His servant should suffer pain He pervades him
through and through."
Know yourself then, O Kabîr; for He is in you from head to foot.
Sing with gladness, and keep your seat unmoved within your heart.
I am neither pious nor ungodly, I live neither by law nor by
sense,
I am neither a speaker nor hearer, I am neither a servant nor
master, I am neither bond nor free,
I am neither detached nor attached.
I am far from none: I am near to none.
I shall go neither to hell nor to heaven.
I do all works; yet I am apart from all works.
Few comprehend my meaning: he who can comprehend it, he sits
unmoved.
Kabîr seeks neither to establish nor to destroy.
The true Name is like none other name!
The distinction of the Conditioned from the Unconditioned is but
a word:
The Unconditioned is the seed, the Conditioned is the flower and
the fruit.
Knowledge is the branch, and the Name is the root.
Look, and see where the root is: happiness shall be yours when
you come to the root.
The root will lead you to the branch, the leaf, the flower, and
the fruit:
It is the encounter with the Lord, it is the attainment of bliss,
In the beginning was He alone, sufficient unto Himself: the
formless, colourless, and unconditioned Being.
Then was there neither beginning, middle, nor end;
Then were no eyes, no darkness, no light;
Then were no ground, air, nor sky; no fire, water, nor earth; no
rivers like the Ganges and the Jumna, no seas, oceans, and waves.
Kabîr ponders in his mind and says, "Then was there no activity:
the Supreme Being remained merged in the unknown depths of His
own self."
The Guru neither eats nor drinks, neither lives nor dies:
Neither has He form, line, colour, nor vesture.
He who has neither caste nor clan nor anything else--how may I
describe His glory?
He has neither form nor formlessness,
He has no name,
He has neither colour nor colourlessness,
He has no dwelling-place.
Kabîr ponders and says: "He who has neither caste nor country,
who is formless and without quality, fills all space."
The Creator brought into being the Game of Joy: and from the word
The earth is His joy; His joy is the sky;
His joy is the flashing of the sun and the moon;
His joy is the beginning, the middle, and the end;
His joy is eyes, darkness, and light.
Oceans and waves are His joy: His joy the Sarasvati, the Jumna,
The Guru is One: and life and death., union and separation, are
all His plays of joy!
His play the land and water, the whole universe!
His play the earth and the sky!
In play is the Creation spread out, in play it is established.
The whole world, says Kabîr, rests in His play, yet still the
Player remains unknown.
The harp gives forth murmurous music; and the dance goes on
without hands and feet.
It is played without fingers, it is heard without ears: for He is
The gate is locked, but within there is fragrance: and there the
meeting is seen of none.
The wise shall understand it.
The Beggar goes a-begging, but
I could not even catch sight of Him:
And what shall I beg of the Beggar He gives without my asking.
Kabîr says: "I am His own: now let that befall which may befall!"
My heart cries aloud for the house of my lover; the open road and
of her husband.
My heart finds no joy in anything: my mind and my body are
distraught.
His palace has a million gates, but there is a vast ocean between
How shall I cross it, O friend?  for endless is the outstretching
How wondrously this lyre is wrought!  When its strings are
rightly strung, it maddens the heart: but when the keys are
broken and the strings are loosened, none regard it more.
I tell my parents with laughter that I must go to my Lord in the
morning;
They are angry, for they do not want me to go, and they say: "She
can have whatsoever she wishes; and therefore she is impatient
to go to him."
Dear friend, lift my veil lightly now; for this is the night of
love.
Kabîr says: "Listen to me!  My heart is eager to meet my lover: I
Serve your God, who has come into this temple of life!
Do not act the part of a madman, for the night is thickening
fast.
He has awaited me for countless ages, for love of me He has
lost His heart:
Yet I did not know the bliss that was so near to me, for my love
was not yet awake.
But now, my Lover has made known to me the meaning of the note
that struck my ear:
Now, my good fortune is come.
Kabîr says: "Behold!  how great is my good fortune!  I have
received the unending caress of my Beloved!"
Clouds thicken in the sky!  O, listen to the deep voice of their
roaring;
The rain comes from the east with its monotonous murmur.
Take care of the fences and boundaries of your fields, lest the
rains overflow them;
Prepare the soil of deliverance, and let the creepers of love and
It is the prudent farmer who will bring his harvest home; he
shall fill both his vessels, and feed both the wise men and the
saints.
This day is dear to me above all other days, for to-day the
Beloved Lord is a guest in my house;
My chamber and my courtyard are beautiful with His presence.
My longings sing His Name, and they are become lost in His great
beauty:
I wash His feet, and I look upon His Face; and I lay before Him
as an offering my body, my mind, and all that I have.
What a day of gladness is that day in which my Beloved, who is my
All evils fly from my heart when I see my Lord.
"My love has touched Him; my heart is longing for the Name which
Thus sings Kabîr, the servant of all servants.
Is there any wise man who will listen to that solemn music which
arises in the sky?
For He, the Source of all music, makes all vessels full fraught,
and rests in fullness Himself.
He who is in the body is ever athirst, for he pursues that which
is in part:
But ever there wells forth deeper and deeper the sound "He is
this--this is He"; fusing love and renunciation into one.
Kabîr says: "O brother!  that is the Primal Word."
To whom shall I go to learn about my Beloved?
Kabîr says: "As you never may find the forest if you ignore the
tree, so He may never be found in abstractions."
I have learned the Sanskrit language, so let all men call me
wise:
But where is the use of this, when I am floating adrift, and
parched with thirst, and burning with the heat of desire?
To no purpose do you bear on your head this load of pride and
vanity.
Kabîr says: "Lay it down in the dust, and go forth to meet the
Beloved.  Address Him as your Lord."
The woman who is parted from her lover spins at the spinning
wheel.
The city of the body arises in its beauty; and within it the
palace of the mind has been built.
The wheel of love revolves in the sky, and the seat is made of
What subtle threads the woman weaves, and makes them fine with
love and reverence!
Kabîr says: "I am weaving the garland of day and night.  When my
Lover comes and touches me with His feet, I shall offer Him my
Beneath the great umbrella of my King millions of suns and moons
and stars are shining!
He is the Mind within my mind: He is the Eye within mine eye.
Ah, could my mind and eyes be one!  Could my love but reach to my
Kabîr says: "When you unite love with the Lover, then you have
love's perfection."
O sadhu! my land is a sorrowless land.
I cry aloud to all, to the king and the beggar, the emperor and
the fakir--
Whosoever seeks for shelter in the Highest, let all come and
settle in my land!
Let the weary come and lay his burdens here!
So live here, my brother, that you may cross with ease to that
other shore.
It is a land without earth or sky, without moon or stars;
For only the radiance of Truth shines in my Lord's Durbar.
Kabîr says: "O beloved brother!  naught is essential save Truth."
Came with my Lord to my Lord's home: but I lived not with Him and
On my wedding night my women-friends sang in chorus, and I was
anointed with the unguents of pleasure and pain:
But when the ceremony was over, I left my Lord and came away, and
Kabîr says, "I shall go to my Lord's house with my love at my
side; then shall I sound the trumpet of triumph!"
O friend, dear heart of mine, think well!  if you love indeed,
then why do you sleep?
If you have found Him, then give yourself utterly, and take Him
to you.
Why do you loose Him again and again?
If the deep sleep of rest has come to your eyes, why waste your
time making the bed and arranging the pillows?
Kabîr says: "I tell you the ways of love!  Even though the head
itself must be given, why should you weep over it?"
The Lord is in me, the Lord is in you, as life is in every seed.
O servant!  put false pride away, and seek for Him within you.
A million suns are ablaze with light,
The sea of blue spreads in the sky,
The fever of life is stilled, and all stains are washed away;
when I sit in the midst of that world.
Hark to the unstruck bells and drums!  Take your delight in love!
light.
One Love it is that pervades the whole world, few there are who
know it fully:
They are blind who hope to see it by the light of reason, that
reason which is the cause of separation--
The House of Reason is very far away!
How blessed is Kabîr, that amidst this great joy he sings within
his own vessel.
It is the music of the meeting of soul with soul;
It is the music of the forgetting of sorrows;
It is the music that transcends all coming in and all going
forth.
The month of March draws near: ah, who will unite me to my Lover?
merged in all beauty.
His colour is in all the pictures of the world, and it bewitches
the body and the mind.
Those who know this, know what is this unutterable play of the
Kabîr says: "Listen to me, brother' there are not many who have
found this out."
Oh Narad!  I know that my Lover cannot be far:
When my Lover wakes, I wake; when He sleeps, I sleep.
He is destroyed at the root who gives pain to my Beloved.
Where they sing His praise, there I live;
When He moves, I walk before Him: my heart yearns for my Beloved.
seated there.
Kabîr says: "The Lover Himself reveals the glory of true love."
Hang up the swing of love to-day!  Hang the body and the mind
between the arms of the Beloved, in the ecstasy of love's joy:
Bring the tearful streams of the rainy clouds to your eyes, and
cover your heart with the shadow of darkness:
Bring your face nearer to His ear, and speak of the deepest
longings of your heart.
Kabîr says: "Listen to me, brother!  bring the vision of the
Beloved in your heart."