meeting is seen of none.
The wise shall understand it.



LXXXIV


III. 89. mor phakîrwâ mângi jây

The Beggar goes a-begging, but
I could not even catch sight of Him:
And what shall I beg of the Beggar He gives without my asking.
Kabîr says: "I am His own: now let that befall which may befall!"



LXXXV


III. 90. naihar se jiyarâ phât re

My heart cries aloud for the house of my lover; the open road and
the shelter of a roof are all one to her who has lost the city
of her husband.
My heart finds no joy in anything: my mind and my body are
distraught.
His palace has a million gates, but there is a vast ocean between
it and me:
How shall I cross it, O friend? for endless is the outstretching