II.77. maddh akas ap jahan baithe
THE MIDDLE region of the sky, wherein the spirit dwelleth, is radiant with the music of light;
There, where the pure and white music blossoms, my Lord takes His delight.
In the wondrous effulgence of each hair of His body, the brightness of millions of suns and of moons is lost.
On that shore there is a city, where the rain of nectar pours and pours, and never ceases.
Kabir says: 'Come, O Dharmadas! and see my great Lord's Durbar.'

যে-মাসেতে আপিসেতে
     হল তার নাম ছাঁটা
স্ত্রীর শাড়ি নিজে পরে,
     স্ত্রী পরিল গামছাটা।
বলে, 'আমি বৈরাগী,
     ছেড়ে দেব শিগ্‌গির,
ঘরে মোর যত আছে
     বিলাস-সামিগ্‌গির।'
ছিল তার টিনে-গড়া
     চা-খাওয়ার চাম্‌চাটা,
কেউ তা কেনে না সেটা
     যত করে দাম-ছাঁটা।

THE CLOUDS part, the morning star appears in the East,
a breath of relief springs up from the heart of the earth,
the murmur of leaves ripples along the forest path,
and the early bird sings.
'The time has come,' proclaims the Man of faith.
'The time for what?'
'For the pilgrimage.'
They sit and think, they know not the meaning,
and yet they seem to understand according to their desires.
The touch of the dawn goes deep into the soil
and life shivers along through the roots of all things.
'To the pilgrimage of fulfilment,' a small voice
whispers, nobody knows whence.
Taken up by the crowd
it swells into a mighty meaning.
Men raise their heads and look up,
women lift their arms in reverence,
children clap their hands and laugh.
The early glow of the sun shines like a golden garland
on the forehead of the Man of faith,
and they all cry: 'Brother, we salute thee!'