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Song
66
The Yogi dyes his garments,
instead of dyeing his mind in the colours of love:
He sits within the temple of the Lord,
leaving Brahma to worship a stone.
He pierces holes in his ears,
he has a great beard and matted
locks, he looks like a goat:
He goes forth into the wilderness, killing all his
desires,
and turns himself into an eunuch:
He shaves his head and dyes his garments;
he reads the Gītā and becomes a mighty talker.
Kabīr says: "You are going to the doors of death,
bound hand and foot!"
Song 67
I do not know what manner of God
is mine.
The Mullah cries aloud to Him: and why? Is your Lord
deaf?
The subtle anklets that ring on the feet of an
insect
when it moves are heard of Him.
Tell your beads, paint your forehead with the mark
of your God,
and wear matted locks long and showy: but a deadly
weapon is in
your heart, and how shall you have God?
Song 68
I hear the melody of His flute,
and I cannot contain myself:
The flower blooms, though it is not spring;
and already the bee has received its invitation.
The sky roars and the lightning flashes, the waves
arise in my heart,
The rain falls; and my heart longs for my Lord.
Where the rhythm of the world rises and falls,
thither my heart
has reached: There the hidden banners are fluttering
in the air.
Kabīr says: "My heart is dying, though it lives."
Song 69
If God be within the mosque, then
to whom does this world belong?
If Ram be within the image which you find upon your
pilgrimage,
then who is there to know what happens without?
Hari is in the East: Allah is in the West. Look
within your
heart, for there you will find both Karim and Ram;
All the men and women of the world are His living
forms.
Kabīr is the child of Allah and of Ram: He is my
Guru, He is my Pir.
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