I.130. sain bin dard kareje hoy WHEN I AM parted from my Beloved, my heart is full of misery: I have no comfort in the day, I have no sleep in the night. To whom shall I tell my sorrow? The night is dark; the hours slip by. Because my Lord is absent, I start up and tremble with fear. Kabir says: 'Listen, my friend! there is no other satisfaction, save in the encounter with the Beloved.'
I WAS TO GO away; still she did not speak. But I felt, from a slight quiver, her yearning arms would say: 'Ah no, not yet.' I have often heard her pleading hands vocal in a touch, though they knew not what they said. I have known those arms to stammer when, had they not, they would have become youth's garland round my neck. Their little gestures return to remembrance in the covert of still hours, like truants they playfully reveal things she had kept secret from me.