Complete Works. Rabindranath Tagore

mind and my body are

       distraught.

       His palace has a million gates, but there is a vast ocean between

       it and me:

       How shall I cross it, O friend? for endless is the outstretching

       of the path.

       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

       thinks she has gained such dominion over her husband that 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

       lie sleepless upon my bed. Remember me early in the morning!"

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      III. 96. jîv mahal men S'iv pahunwâ

      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!"

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      I. 71. gagan ghatâ ghaharânî, sâdho

      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

       renunciation be soaked in this shower.

       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.

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      III. 118. âj din ke main jaun balihârî

      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

       treasure, comes to my house!

       All evils fly from my heart when I see my Lord.

       "My love has touched Him; my heart is longing for the Name which

       is Truth."

       Thus sings Kabîr, the servant of all servants.

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      I. 100. kôi s'untâ hai jñânî râg gagan men

      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."

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      I. 108. main kâ se bûjhaun

      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."

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      III. 12. samskirit bhâshâ padhi lînhâ

      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."

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      III. 110. carkhâ calai surat virahin kâ

      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

       the jewels of knowledge:

       What subtle threads the woman weaves, and makes them fine with

       love and reverence!

       Kabîr says: "I am weaving the garland of