(AD 1398–1447; AH 800–51)
Kabir was born near the holy city of Varanasi or Benares. He is regarded as a poet-saint, closely associated with the bhakti or Hindu devotional movement in India.
It is said that Kabir was raised by Muslim weavers and trained by Hindu masters. As such, his personal philosophy combined concepts from both religions, although he rejected the idea of religion itself, as well as the notion of sects.
Virtually illiterate, Kabir was an oral Hindi poet. His works were passed on in songs and are often sung in temples and qawwali gatherings. His poems are found in the Adi Granth (literally, The First Book), an early compilation of the Sikh scriptures.
Kabir’s poetry is much loved by Sufis and he himself is regarded as a Sufi poet in Hindi. The Bijak (Seedling), a compilation of poetry, is considered his most important work, though he is famous for his Dohas, couplets in the Hindi form which lend themselves to oral transmission.
O friend, hope for Him whilst you live,
Know whilst you live, understand whilst you live:
For in life deliverance abides.
If your bonds be not broken whilst living,
What hope of deliverance in death?
It is but an empty dream, that the soul shall have union with Him
Because it has passed from the body:
If He is found now, He is found then,
If not, we do but go to dwell in the City of Death.
If you have union now, you shall have it hereafter.
Bathe in the truth, know the true Guru,
Have faith in the true Name!
Kabir says: ‘It is the Spirit of the quest which helps;
I am the slave of this Spirit of the quest!’
Rabindranath Tagore
Do not go to the garden of flowers!
O friend, go not there;
In your body is the garden of flowers.
Take your seat on the thousand petals of the lotus
And there gaze on the Infinite Beauty.
Rabindranath Tagore
The Moon shines in my body, but my blind eyes cannot see it:
The Moon is within me, and so is the Sun.
The unstruck drum of Eternity is sounded within me; but my deaf ears cannot hear it.
So long as man clamours for the ‘I’ and the ‘Mine’, his works are as naught:
When all love of the ‘I’ and the ‘Mine’ is dead, then the work of the Lord is done.
For work has no other aim than the getting of knowledge:
When that comes, then work is put away.
The flower blooms for the fruit: when the fruit comes, the flower withers.
The musk is in the deer, but it seeks it not within itself: it wanders in quest of grass.
Rabindranath Tagore
O how may I ever express that secret word?
O how can I say He is not like this, and He is like that?
If I say that He is within me, the universe is ashamed:
If I say that He is without me, it is falsehood.
He makes the inner and the outer worlds to be indivisibly one;
The conscious and the unconscious, both are His footstools.
He is neither manifest nor hidden, He is neither revealed nor unrevealed:
There are no words to tell that which He is.
Rabindranath Tagore
Find the word, understand the word,
Depend on the word;
The word is heaven and space, the word the earth,
The word the universe.
The word is in our ears, the word is on our tongues,
The word the idol.
The word is the holy book, the word is harmony,
The word is music.
The word is magic, the word the Guru,
The word is the body, the word is the spirit, the word is being,
The word Not-being.
The word is man, the word is woman,
The Worshipped Great.
The word is the seen and unseen, the word is the existent
And the non-existent.
Know the word, says Kabir,
The word is All-powerful.
All jewels are made of the same gold;
We give them different names.
Some call it prayer, others Namaz;
Some say Hindu, some say Muslim.
He reads the Veda, he the Qur’an;
He is a Mullah, he a pandit,
The vessels are of the same earth made;
We give them different names.
Says Kabir: They are misguided all;
God is far away from all
Who waste their time
Who argue and name call.
The river
And the wave are the same.
When it rises up, it’s water;
When it subsides, it’s water.
Otherwise it cannot be.
You call it wave, you see,
But other than water it cannot be.
The Creator is the world
And the world the Creator.
He is reflected in the mirror
Yet He is everywhere.
When the mirror of the heart is clean,
Only then He’s clearly seen.
Like water makes ice,
And ice becomes water and steam,
So when hearts melt and join,
They become one as a running stream.
Not a believer, nor a non-believer I.
I am not chaste, nor a sinner am I.
I do not say, I do not hear.
I am not master, nor slave am I.
I am not tied, I am not free,
Nor am I without any bounds.
I am not alone, nor am I attached.
Not bound for heaven or hell am I.
All actions are mine and yet not mine;
Only someone wise can decipher
These strange words of mine!
Kabir does not affirm or deny!
A bubble risen from a river
Hangs above the waters;
It is the river and not separate
From the waves.
Its life is so long as it’s risen.
When it falls, it becomes One
With the river, its Creator.
Like a wild dog
In a palace of mirrors
Barks himself to death,
Like a lion dives into the well
When it sees its own reflection,
Or an elephant breaks its neck
Against shining rocks,
The greedy monkey
Grabs a trap and then has
To dance to the master’s tune.
And you, slave of Illusion,
Who has captured you!
The light of the Sun, the Moon and the stars shines bright:
The melody of love swells forth, and the rhythm of love’s detachment beats the time.
Day and night, the chorus of music fills the heavens; and Kabir says:
‘My Beloved One gleams like the lightning flash in the sky.’
Rabindranath Tagore