THE SKY GAZES on its own endless blue and dreams. We clouds are its whims, we have no home. The stars shine on the crown of Eternity. Their records are permanent, while ours are penciled, to be rubbed off the next moment.
Our part is to appear on the stage of the air to sound our tambourines and fling flashes of laughter. But from our laughter comes the rain, which is real enough, and thunder which is no jest. Yet we have no claim upon Time for wages, and the breath that blew us into being blows us away before we are given a name.

I.109. sain ke sangat sasur ai
I CAME with my Lord to my Lord's home: but I lived not with Him and I tasted Him not, and my youth passed away like a dream.
On my wedding night my women-friends sang in chorus, and I was anointed with the unguents of pleasure and pain:
But when the ceremony was over, I left my Lord and came away, and my kinsman tried to console me upon the road.
Kabir says, I shall go to my Lord's house with my love at my side; then shall I sound the trumpet of triumph!

       নামাও নামাও আমায় তোমার
                    চরণতলে,
       গলাও হে মন, ভাসাও জীবন
                    নয়নজলে।
                           একা আমি অহংকারের
                                  উচ্চ অচলে,
                           পাষাণ-আসন ধুলায় লুটাও,
                                         ভাঙো সবলে।
                           নামাও নামাও আমায় তোমার
                                         চরণতলে।
       কী লয়ে বা গর্ব করি
                    ব্যর্থ জীবনে।
       ভরা গৃহে শূন্য আমি
                    তোমা বিহনে।
                           দিনের কর্ম ডুবেছে মোর
                                         আপন অতলে
                           সন্ধ্যাবেলার পূজা যেন
                                         যায় না বিফলে।
                           নামাও নামাও আমায় তোমার
                                         চরণতলে।