Even then, his hardened mind was not satisfied.
Says Kabeer, such is my Lord and Master.
The soul of His humble servant dwells in the fourth state. ||4||1||4||
It is not human, and it is not a god.
It is not called celibate, or a worshipper of Shiva.
It is not a Yogi, and it is not a hermit.
It is not a mother, or anyone's son. ||1||
Then what is it, which dwells in this temple of the body?
No one can find its limits. ||1||Pause||
It is not a house-holder, and it is not a renouncer of the world.
It is not a king, and it is not a beggar.
It has no body, no drop of blood.
It is not a Brahmin, and it is not a Kh'shaatriya. ||2||
It is not called a man of austere self-discipline, or a Shaykh.
It does not live, and it is not seen to die.
If someone cries over its death,
that person loses his honor. ||3||
By Guru's Grace, I have found the Path.
Birth and death have both been erased.
Says Kabeer, this is formed of the same essence as the Lord.
It is like the ink on the paper which cannot be erased. ||4||2||5||
The threads are broken, and the starch has run out.
Bare reeds glisten at the front door.
The poor brushes are scattered in pieces.
Death has entered this shaven head. ||1||
This shaven-headed mendicant has wasted all his wealth.
All this coming and going has irritated him. ||1||Pause||
He has given up all talk of his weaving equipment.
His mind is attuned to the Lord's Name.
His daughters and sons have nothing to eat,
while the shaven-headed mendicants night and day eat their fill. ||2||
One or two are in the house, and one or two more are on the way.
We sleep on the floor, while they sleep in the beds.
They rub their bare heads, and carry prayer-books in their waist-bands.
We get dry grains, while they get loaves of bread. ||3||
He will become one of these shaven-headed mendicants.
They are the support of the drowning.
Listen, O blind and unguided Loi:
Kabeer has taken shelter with these shaven-headed mendicants. ||4||3||6||
When her husband dies, the woman does not cry.
Someone else becomes her protector.
When this protector dies,
he falls into the world of hell hereafter, for the sexual pleasures he enjoyed in this world. ||1||
The world loves only the one bride, Maya.
She is the wife of all beings and creatures. ||1||Pause||
With her necklace around her neck, this bride looks beautiful.
She is poison to the Saint, but the world is delighted with her.
Adorning herself, she sits like a prostitute.
Cursed by the Saints, she wanders around like a wretch. ||2||
She runs around, chasing after the Saints.
She is afraid of being beaten by those blessed with the Guru's Grace.
She is the body, the breath of life, of the faithless cynics.
She appears to me like a blood-thirsty witch. ||3||
I know her secrets well
in His Mercy, the Divine Guru met me.
Says Kabeer, now I have thrown her out.
She clings to the skirt of the world. ||4||4||7||