Songs of Kabir — trans. Rabindranath Tagore, with an introduction by Evelyn Underhill (1915)

It is the mercy of my true Guru that has made me to know the unknown; I have learned from Him how to walk without feet, to see without eyes, to hear without ears, to drink without mouth, to fly without wings; I have brought my love and my meditation into the land where there is no sun and moon, nor day and night. Without eating, I have tasted of the sweetness of nectar; and without water, I have quenched my thirst. Where there is the response of delight, there is the fullness of joy. Before whom can that joy be uttered? Kabîr says: "The Guru is great beyond words, and great is the good fortune of the disciple."

XXVIII

II. 85. _nirgun âge sargun nâcai_

Before the Unconditioned, the Conditioned dances: "Thou and I are
one!" this trumpet proclaims.
The Guru comes, and bows down before the disciple:
This is the greatest of wonders.

XXIX

II. 87. _Kabîr kab se bhaye vairâgî_

Gorakhnath asks Kabîr: "Tell me, O Kabîr, when did your vocation begin? Where did your love have its rise?" Kabîr answers: "When He whose forms are manifold had not begun His play: when there was no Guru, and no disciple: when the world was not spread out: when the Supreme One was alone-- Then I became an ascetic; then, O Gorakh, my love was drawn to Brahma. Brahma did not hold the crown on his head; the god Vishnu was not anointed as king; the power of Shiva was still unborn; when I was instructed in Yoga.

I became suddenly revealed in Benares, and Râmânanda illumined me; I brought with me the thirst for the Infinite, and I have come for the meeting with Him. In simplicity will I unite with the Simple One; my love will surge up. O Gorakh, march thou with His music!"

XXX

II. 95. _yâ tarvar men ek pakherû_

On this tree is a bird: it dances in the joy of life. None knows where it is: and who knows what the burden of its music may be? Where the branches throw a deep shade, there does it have its nest: and it comes in the evening and flies away in the morning, and says not a word of that which it means. None tell me of this bird that sings within me. It is neither coloured nor colourless: it has neither form nor outline: It sits in the shadow of love. It dwells within the Unattainable, the Infinite, and the Eternal; and no one marks when it comes and goes. Kabîr says: "O brother Sadhu! deep is the mystery. Let wise men seek to know where rests that bird."

XXXI

II. 100. _nis` din sâlai ghâw_

A sore pain troubles me day and night, and I cannot sleep;
I long for the meeting with my Beloved, and my father's house
gives me pleasure no more.
The gates of the sky are opened, the temple is revealed:
I meet my husband, and leave at His feet the offering of my body
and my mind.

XXXII

II. 103. _nâco re mero man, matta hoy_

Dance, my heart! dance to-day with joy.
The strains of love fill the days and the nights with music, and
the world is listening to its melodies:
Mad with joy, life and death dance to the rhythm of this music.
The hills and the sea and the earth dance. The world of man
dances in laughter and tears.
Why put on the robe of the monk, and live aloof from the world in
lonely pride?
Behold! my heart dances in the delight of a hundred arts; and
the Creator is well pleased.

XXXIII

II. 105. _man mast huâ tab kyon bole_

Where is the need of words, when love has made drunken the heart? I have wrapped the diamond in my cloak; why open it again and again? When its load was light, the pan of the balance went up: now it is full, where is the need for weighing? The swan has taken its flight to the lake beyond the mountains; why should it search for the pools and ditches any more? Your Lord dwells within you: why need your outward eyes be opened? Kabîr says: "Listen, my brother! my Lord, who ravishes my eyes, has united Himself with me."

XXXIV

II. 110. _mohi tohi lâgî kaise chute_

How could the love between Thee and me sever?
As the leaf of the lotus abides on the water: so thou art my
Lord, and I am Thy servant.
As the night-bird Chakor gazes all night at the moon: so Thou art
my Lord and I am Thy servant.
From the beginning until the ending of time, there is love
between Thee and me; and how shall such love be extinguished?
Kabîr says: "As the river enters into the ocean, so my heart
touches Thee."

XXXV

II. 113. _vâlam, âwo hamâre geh re_

My body and my mind are grieved for the want of Thee;
O my Beloved! come to my house.
When people say I am Thy bride, I am ashamed; for I have not
touched Thy heart with my heart.
Then what is this love of mine? I have no taste for food, I have
no sleep; my heart is ever restless within doors and without.
As water is to the thirsty, so is the lover to the bride. Who is
there that will carry my news to my Beloved?
Kabîr is restless: he is dying for sight of Him.

XXXVI

II. 126. _jâg piyârî, ab kân sowai_