"The Holy One disguised as an old person in a cheap hotel.
Goes out to ask for carfare.
But I never seem to catch sight of him.
If I did, what would I ask him for?
He has already experienced what is missing in my life.
Kabir says: I belong to this old person.
Now let the events about to come, come!"


"The woman who is separated from her lover spins at the spinning wheel.
The Baghdad of the body rises with its towers and gates.
Inside it the palace of intelligence has been built.

The wheel of ecstatic love turns around in the sky,
and the spinning seat is made of the sapphires of work and study.

This woman weaves threads that are subtle,
and the intensity of her praise makes them fine!

Kabir says: I am that woman.
I am weaving the linen of day night and day.

When my Lover comes and I feel his feet,
the gift I will have for him is tears."