Hindi poetry -- Translations into English; Indic poetry -- Translations into English
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_
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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