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 message, and now my fear of death is done away. Kabîr says: "O my loving friend! I have got for my gift the Deathless One." 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_