Came with my Lord to my Lord's home: but I lived not with Him and I tasted Him not, and my youth passed away like a dream. 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 my kinsman tried to console me upon the road. Kabîr says, "I shall go to my Lord's house with my love at my side; then shall I sound the trumpet of triumph!" XCVI I. 75. _samajh dekh man mît piyarwâ_ 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?" XCVII II. 90. _sâhab ham men, sâhab tum men_ 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! Rains pour down without water, and the rivers are streams of 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. XCVIII II. 98. _ritu phâgun niyarânî_ The month of March draws near: ah, who will unite me to my Lover? How shall I find words for the beauty of my Beloved? For He is 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 Spring. Kabîr says: "Listen to me, brother' there are not many who have found this out." XCIX II. 111. _Nârad, pyâr so antar nâhî_ 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. The infinite pilgrimage lies at His feet, a million devotees are seated there. Kabîr says: "The Lover Himself reveals the glory of true love." C II. 122. _kôî prem kî peng jhulâo re_