Poems of Kabir 

Seeing the gardener approaching, the buds cried out: 
"Today the blossoms have been picked, 
Tomorrow will be our turn."

As the woodcutter advanced,
the trees sighed and said: 
"It matters nothing that we are to be cut down, 
But, alas, the birds will lose their homes."

As the potter was kneading the wet clay, it said: 
"Today, O friend, thou art kneading me, 
But tomorrow thou wilt have to make a bed in my lap."

Kabir saw a mill grinding the wheat and cried: 
"Alas, no grain remains between the grinding stones, 
Yet those who cling to the pivot are not destroyed." 

* 

The night you passed in sleep 
And the day in visiting your false friends; 
Alas! Thus have you wasted 
The diamond of your life on naught.
You will die one day, perhaps tomorrow; 
Grass will grow on your tomb, 
And your friends will forget you.
Therefore know your soul soon.
  Whom will the son of a harlot call his father?
Worship God in your being 
And do not waste your life.
Your body is like a jar of unbaked clay; 
It may break to pieces any moment 
And all will be over, 
Nowhere is there delight except in God.
This world is a house made of wood, 
And, lo! it is burning furiously; 
He who stays in it dies.
The Yogi withdraws from it in meditation 
And he is saved.
Thy birth as man is a ripe fruit 
Which is seen only once; 
Make the most
of the practice of devotion and compassion 
And the acquisition of true Knowledge.
O Kabir, there is a way out of this illusory world: 
Know the soul at any cost.
 
* 

I laugh
when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty.
Man wanders about without purpose
to Mathura or Kashi 
Without the knowledge of the inner spirit, 
Like a deer that runs listlessly from forest to forest 
In search of the musk which lies within its own navel
All men of the three worlds,
even sanyasis, munis and yogis 
Are infatuated by desire and a slave to the mind 
Just as a large bee is infatuated
by the buds of a lotus in the water,
The immanent and unmanifested 'Hans' is in my heart, 
Which is worshipped by
Brahma, Vishnu, Shiva and 88,000 munis. 
God is within
but people think that he is somewhere outside.
O! Irony of ironies!

Kabir says: 
Listen, O Sadhu,
this confusion cannot be removed without the help of a Guru.

Poet and saint born in Benares, Kabir lived a simple family life of a weaver. He was probably the first to make serious efforts to unite Moslems and Hindus. He died in 1518. His poetry is unsurpassed. 

~ Submitted by Shanti Wadhwa - Pune.

   Radha Soami Teachings 

    Introduction to Radhasoami faith

    Surat Shabad Yoga & Radha Soami satsang Beas        

    Seva or Service Performed by Radha Soamis

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