LXXXIII


III. 84. <i>jhî jhî jantar bâjai</i>

The harp gives forth murmurous music; and the dance goes on
  without hands and feet.
It is played without fingers, it is heard without ears: for He is
  the ear, and He is the listener.
The gate is locked, but within there is fragrance: and there the
  meeting is seen of none.
The wise shall understand it.

LXXXIV


III. 89. <i>mor phakîrwâ mângi jây</i>

The Beggar goes a-begging, but
I could not even catch sight of Him:
And what shall I beg of the Beggar He gives without my asking.
Kabîr says: "I am His own: now let that befall which may befall!"

LXXXV


III. 90. <i>naihar se jiyarâ phât re</i>

My heart cries aloud for the house of my lover; the open road and
  the shelter of a roof are all one to her who has lost the city
  of her husband.
My heart finds no joy in anything: my mind and my body are
  distraught.
His palace has a million gates, but there is a vast ocean between
  it and me:
How shall I cross it, O friend?  for endless is the outstretching
  of the path.
How wondrously this lyre is wrought!  When its strings are
  rightly strung, it maddens the heart: but when the keys are
  broken and the strings are loosened, none regard it more.
I tell my parents with laughter that I must go to my Lord in the
  morning;

They are angry, for they do not want me to go, and they say: "She
  thinks she has gained such dominion over her husband that she
  can have whatsoever she wishes; and therefore she is impatient
  to go to him."
Dear friend, lift my veil lightly now; for this is the night of
  love.
Kabîr says: "Listen to me!  My heart is eager to meet my lover: I
  lie sleepless upon my bed.  Remember me early in the morning!"

LXXXVI


III. 96. <i>jîv mahal men S'iv pahunwâ</i>

Serve your God, who has come into this temple of life!
Do not act the part of a madman, for the night is thickening
  fast.
He has awaited me for countless ages, for love of me He has
  lost His heart:
Yet I did not know the bliss that was so near to me, for my love
  was not yet awake.
But now, my Lover has made known to me the meaning of the note
  that struck my ear:
Now, my good fortune is come.
Kabîr says: "Behold!  how great is my good fortune!  I have
  received the unending caress of my Beloved!"

LXXXVII


I. 71. <i>gagan ghatâ ghaharânî, sâdho</i>

Clouds thicken in the sky!  O, listen to the deep voice of their
  roaring;
The rain comes from the east with its monotonous murmur.
Take care of the fences and boundaries of your fields, lest the
  rains overflow them;
Prepare the soil of deliverance, and let the creepers of love and
  renunciation be soaked in this shower.
It is the prudent farmer who will bring his harvest home; he
  shall fill both his vessels, and feed both the wise men and the
  saints.

LXXXVIII


III. 118. <i>âj din ke main jaun balihârî</i>

This day is dear to me above all other days, for to-day the
  Beloved Lord is a guest in my house;
My chamber and my courtyard are beautiful with His presence.
My longings sing His Name, and they are become lost in His great
  beauty:
I wash His feet, and I look upon His Face; and I lay before Him
  as an offering my body, my mind, and all that I have.
What a day of gladness is that day in which my Beloved, who is my
  treasure, comes to my house!
All evils fly from my heart when I see my Lord.
"My love has touched Him; my heart is longing for the Name which
  is Truth."
Thus sings Kabîr, the servant of all servants.

LXXXIX


I. 100. <i>kôi s'untâ hai jñânî râg gagan men</i>

Is there any wise man who will listen to that solemn music which
  arises in the sky?
For He, the Source of all music, makes all vessels full fraught,
  and rests in fullness Himself.
He who is in the body is ever athirst, for he pursues that which
  is in part:
But ever there wells forth deeper and deeper the sound "He is
  this--this is He"; fusing love and renunciation into one.
Kabîr says: "O brother!  that is the Primal Word."

XC


I. 108. <i>main kâ se bûjhaun</i>

To whom shall I go to learn about my Beloved?
Kabîr says: "As you never may find the forest if you ignore the
  tree, so He may never be found in abstractions."

XCI


III. 12. <i>samskirit bhâshâ padhi lînhâ</i>

I have learned the Sanskrit language, so let all men call me
  wise:
But where is the use of this, when I am floating adrift, and
  parched with thirst, and burning with the heat of desire?
To no purpose do you bear on your head this load of pride and
  vanity.
Kabîr says: "Lay it down in the dust, and go forth to meet the
  Beloved.  Address Him as your Lord."

XCII


III. 110. <i>carkhâ calai surat virahin kâ</i>

The woman who is parted from her lover spins at the spinning
  wheel.
The city of the body arises in its beauty; and within it the
  palace of the mind has been built.
The wheel of love revolves in the sky, and the seat is made of
  the jewels of knowledge:
What subtle threads the woman weaves, and makes them fine with
  love and reverence!
Kabîr says: "I am weaving the garland of day and night.  When my
  Lover comes and touches me with His feet, I shall offer Him my
  tears."