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 soul? 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 Creator." XLVII I. 102. _tarvar ek mûl vin thâdâ_ 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, and the Guru beholds him in joy. 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." XLVIII I. 107. _calat mansâ acal kînhî_ 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 the Comrade Himself. 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." XLIX I. 105. _jo dîsai, so to hai nâhîn_ 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." L I. 126. _muralî bajat akhand sadâye_ 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. LI I. 129. _sakhiyo, ham hûn bhâî vâlamâs'î_