Translation (Source)
Running up minarets, Calling out to the faithful Five times a day, What’s your problem, muezzin? Can’t you see you’re a walking Mosque yourself? Your mind’s your Mecca; Your body the Ka’aba That you face when you pray; Anything you say Is an utterance from heaven. Cut the throat of desire, Not a poor goat’s, if you must. Kabir says, I’m possessed, Just don’t ask me how It happened or when. KG 129 What has here been translated as “walking mosque” is, in the original, a “mosque with ten doors,” the ten doors being the nine holes of the human body and “(in yoga) the opening at the top of the skull through which the soul is said to escape to union with the absolute, or in death” (Oxford Hindi-English Dictionary).
Source (Verse 77)
Translation (Source)
Try though you may, Neither punditry Nor penance Nor telling beads will bring you To the four-armed god. At all times Keep cool. Don’t covet Another man’s wife or wealth, And wipe the bootlicker’s smile Off your face. It’s no use praying To stone idols otherwise. Keep it simple, says Kabir. It’ll get you to Rama Quicker than you know.
Source (Verse 179)
Translation (Source)
O pundit, your hairsplitting’s So much bullshit.
I’m surprised You still get away with it.
If parroting the name Of Rama brought salvation, Then saying sugarcane Should sweeten the mouth, Saying fire burn the feet, Saying water slake thirst,
And saying food Would be as good as a belch.
If saying money made everyone rich, There’d be no beggars in the streets.
My back is turned on the world, You hear me singing of Rama and you smile.
One day, Kabir says, All bundled up, You’ll be delivered to Deathville.
Source (Verse 85)
Translation (Source)
To tonsured monks and dreadlocked Rastas,
To idol worshippers and idol smashers,
To fasting Jains and feasting Shaivites,
To Vedic pundits and Faber poets,
The weaver Kabir sends one message: The noose of death hangs over all. Only Rama’s name can save you. Say it NOW.
Translation (Source)
If going naked Brought liberation, The deer of the forest Would attain it first.
If a shaven head Was a sign of piety, Ewes would be Pious too.
If holding back the semen Brought you closer to heaven, A steer would Lead the way.
There’s no salvation Without Rama, says Kabir. Not to know it is Really dumb.
Translation (Source)
I’d say this Through a megaphone If I had one:
Look at these men.
Shaven heads, Great big earrings, Ash-smeared bodies,
But inside they’re empty As a house that’s been Cleaned out by thieves.
And look at these others In the best part of town,
Who forget that when death Slips its noose round their necks To drag them through the streets It won’t be pretty.
I live in Fearlessburg, Kabir the weaver says. Its builder? Rama.
The shaven-headed men are the Nath-panthis, belonging to a religious sect of the Hatha Yoga school. Several reasons have been given for the practice of smearing the body with ashes. “They signify death to the world,...or they may indicate that the body must be reduced to ashes ultimately, or they may be a sign that the Yogi has abandoned the world” (G.W. Briggs, Gorakhnath and the Kanphata Yogis, 1938, pp. 16–17).
Source (Verse 127)
Translation (Source)
The body’s a pot And the mind is the cream
Three milkmaids are churning.
From time to time They throw in the lord’s name.
Seeing that she’s got the butter, Seeing that the pot is smashed, The dairy-wife, Kabir says, Rejoices.
In the original, the three milkmaids are called Ila [Ida], Pingala, and Sukhman [Sushumna], which are names of the three nadis (Sanskrit for “tube” or “pipe”). In yoga, the nadis are channels for the flow of consciousness and can be stimulated through breathing techniques. Once the dairy-wife (the individual soul) has got the butter (pure consciousness, essence), the pot is of no further use to her.
