MY KING, thou hast called me to play my flute at the roadside, that they who bear the burden of voiceless life may stop in their errands for a moment and sit and wonder before the balcony of thy palace gate; that they may see anew the ever old and find afresh what is ever about them, and say, 'The flowers are in bloom, and the birds sing.'

III. 2. jo khoda masjid vasat hai
IF GOD BE within the mosque, then to whom does this world belong?
If Ram be within the image which you find upon your pilgrimage, then who is there to know what happens without?
Hari is in the East: Allah is in the West. Look within your heart, for there you will find both Karim and Ram;
All the men and women of the world are His living forms.
Kabir is the child of Allah and of Ram: He is my Guru, He is my Pir.

THE WAR drums are sounded.
Men force their features into frightfulness and gnash their teeth;
and before they rush out to gather raw human flesh for death's larder,
they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.
They pray for success;
for they must raise weeping and wailing
in their wake, sever des of love,
plant flags on the ashes of desolated homes,
devastate the centres of culture
and shrines of beauty,
mark red with blood their trail
across green meadows and populous markets,
and so they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.
They will punctuate each thousand of the maimed and killed
with the trumpeting of their triumph,
arouse demon's mirth at the sight
of the limbs torn bleeding from women and children;
and they pray that they may befog minds with untruths
and poison God's sweet air of breath,
and therefore they march to the temple of Buddha, the compassionate,
to claim his blessings,
while loud beats the drum rat-a-tat
and earth trembles.