বাদরবরখন নীরদগরজন
বিজুলী চমকন ঘোর,
উপেখই কৈছে আও তু কুঞ্জে
নিতি নিতি, মাধব মোর।
ঘন ঘন চপলা চমকয় যব পহু,
বজরপাত যব হোয়,
তুঁহুক বাত তব সমরয়ি প্রিয়তম,
ডর অতি লাগত মোয়।
অঙ্গবসন তব ভীঁখত মাধব,
ঘন ঘন বরখত মেহ --
ক্ষুদ্র বালি হম, হমকো লাগয়
কাহ উপেখবি দেহ?
বইস বইস পহু, কুসুমশয়ন 'পর
পদযুগ দেহ পসারি --
সিক্ত চরণ তব মোছব যতনে --
কুন্তলভার উঘারি।
শ্রান্ত অঙ্গ তব হে ব্রজসুন্দর,
রাখ বক্ষ-'পর মোর,
তনু তব ঘেরব পুলকিত পরশে
বাহুমৃণালক ডোর।
ভানু কহে বৃকভানুনন্দিনী,
প্রেমসিন্দু মম কালা,
তোঁহার লাগয়, প্রেমক লাগয়
সব কছু সহবে জ্বালা।

INTRODUCTION
THE POET Kabir, a selection from whose songs is here for the first time offered to English readers, is one of the most interesting personalities in the history of Indian mysticism. Born in or near Benares, of Mohammedan parents, and probably about the year 1440, he became in early life a disciple of the celebrated Hindu ascetic Ramananda. Ramananda had brought to Northern India the religious revival which Ramanuja, the great twelfth- century reformer of Brahmanism, had initiated in the South. This revival was in part a reaction against the increasing formalism of the orthodox cult, in part an assertion of the demands of the heart as against the intense intellectualism of the Vedanta philosophy, the exaggerated monism which that philosophy proclaimed. It took in Ramanuja's preaching the form of an ardent personal devotion to the God Vishnu, as representing the personal aspect of the Divine Nature: that mystical 'religion of love' which every- where makes its appearance at a certain level of spiritual culture, and which creeds and philosophies are powerless to kill.
The images are all lifeless, they cannot speak: I know, for I have cried aloud to them.
The Purana and the Koran are mere words: lifting up the curtain, I have seen.'

MY KING'S road that lies still before my house makes my heart wistful.
It stretches its beckoning hand towards me; its silence calls me out of my home; with dumb entreaties it kisses my feet at every step.
It leads me on I know not to what abandonment, to what sudden gain or surprises of distress.
I know not where its windings end-
But my King's road that lies still before my house makes my heart
wistful.