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Hang Up The Swing Of Love Today!

Hang the body and the mind between the arms of the beloved,
in the ecstasy of love's joy:

Bring the tearful streams of the rainy clouds to your eyes,
and cover your heart with the shadow of darkness:

Bring your face nearer to his ear,
and speak of the deepest longings of your heart.

Kabir says: 'Listen to me brother!
bring the vision of the Beloved in your heart.'

poem by Kabir
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I Have Attained The Eternal Bliss

I have attained the Eternal Bliss.
There is no time for sorrow or pain,
for now I enjoy singing His glory.

The tree of His pleasure has neither root, nor seed,
as revealed by the grace of the true Guru.

Now there is effulgence of a million suns,
my swan has dipped in the lake of His knowledge.

Says Kabir, listen, O wise brother,
Now comings and goings have come to an end.

poem by Kabir
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I Laugh When I Hear That The Fish In The Water Is Thirsty

I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty

You don't grasp the fact that what is most alive of all
is inside your own house.
and so you walk from one holy city to the next with
a confused look!

Kabir will tell you the truth: go wherever you like,
to Calcutta or Tibet;
if you can't find where your soul is hidden,
for you the world will never be real!

poem by Kabir
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O servant where dost thou seek me

O servant, where dost thou seek Me?
O servant, where dost thou seek Me?

Lo! I am beside thee.

I am neither in temple nor in mosque:
I am neither in Kaaba nor in Kailash:

Neither am I in rites and ceremonies,
nor in Yoga and renunciation.

If thou art a true seeker, thou shalt at once see Me:
thou shalt meet Me in a moment of time.

Kabir says, ' O Sadhu! God is the breath of all breath.'

poem by Kabir
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To Thee Thou Hast Drawn My Love

To Thee Thou hast drawn my love, O Fakir!
I was sleeping in my own chamber,
and Thou didst awaken me;
striking me with Thy voice, O Fakir!
I was drowning in the deeps of the ocean of this world, and
Thou didst save me: upholding me with Thine arm, O Fakir!
Only one word and no second-
and Thou hast made me tear off all
my bonds, O Fakir!
Kabîr says, 'Thou hast united Thy heart to my heart, O Fakir! '

poem by Kabir
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Hey brother, why do you want me to talk?

Hey brother, why do you want me to talk?
Talk and talk and the real things get lost.

Talk and talk and things get out of hand.
Why not stop talking and think?

If you meet someone good, listen a little, speak;
If you meet someone bad, clench up like a fist.

Talking with a wise man is a great reward.
Talking with a fool? A waste.

Kabir says: A pot makes noise if it's half full,
But fill it to the brim - no sound.

poem by Kabir
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Illusion and Reality

What is seen is not the Truth
What is cannot be said
Trust comes not without seeing
Nor understanding without words
The wise comprehends with knowledge
To the ignorant it is but a wonder
Some worship the formless God
Some worship His various forms
In what way He is beyond these attributes
Only the Knower knows
That music cannot be written
How can then be the notes
Says Kabir, awareness alone will overcome illusion

poem by Kabir
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Between the Poles of the Conscious

BETWEEN the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has the mind made a swing:
Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never ceases its sway.
Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their courses are there:
Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on.
All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and the Lord Himself taking form:
And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.

poem by Kabir
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The middle region of the sky

The middle region of the sky,
wherein the spirit dwelleth,
is radiant with the music of light;

There, where the pure and white music blossoms,
my Lord takes His delight.

In the wondrous effulgence of each hair of His body, t
he brightness of millions of suns and of moons is lost.

On that shore there is a city,
where the rain of nectar pours and pours,
and never ceases.
Kabîr says: 'Come, O Dharmadas!
and see my great Lord's Durbar.'

poem by Kabir
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Are you looking for me?

Are you looking for me? I am in the next seat.
My shoulder is against yours.
you will not find me in the stupas, not in Indian shrine
rooms, nor in synagogues, nor in cathedrals:
not in masses, nor kirtans, not in legs winding
around your own neck, nor in eating nothing but
vegetables.

When you really look for me, you will see me
instantly --
you will find me in the tiniest house of time.

Kabir says: Student, tell me, what is God?
He is the breath inside the breath.

poem by Kabir
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