III. 74. pratham ek jo apai ap
IN THE beginning was He alone, sufficient unto Himself: the formless, colourless, and unconditioned Being.
Then was there neither beginning, middle, nor end;
Then were no eyes, no darkness, no light;
Then were no ground, air, nor sky; no fire, water, nor earth; no rivers like the Ganges and the Jumna, no seas, oceans, and waves.
Then was neither vice nor virtue; scriptures there were not, as the Vedas and Puranas, nor as the Koran.
Kabir ponders in his mind and says, 'Then was there no activity: the Supreme Being remained merged in the unknown depths of His own self.'
The Guru neither eats nor drinks, neither lives nor dies:
Neither has He form, line, colour, nor vesture.
He who has neither caste nor clan nor anything elsehow may I describe His glory?
He has neither form nor formlessness,
He has no name,
He has neither colour nor colourlessness,
He has no dwelling-place.

সারা জীবন দিল আলো
              সূর্য গ্রহ চাঁদ--
তোমার আশীর্বাদ হে প্রভু,
              তোমার আশীর্বাদ।
মেঘের কলস ভরে ভরে
প্রসাদবারি পড়ে ঝরে,
সকল দেহে প্রভাতবায়ু
             ঘুচায় অবসাদ--
তোমার আশীর্বাদ হে প্রভু,
             তোমার আশীর্বাদ।
তৃণ যে এই ধুলার 'পরে
             পাতে আঁচলখানি,
এই-যে আকাশ চিরনীরব
             অমৃতময় বাণী--
ফুল যে আসে দিনে দিনে
বিনা রেখার পথটি চিনে,
এই-যে ভুবন দিকে দিকে
              পুরায় কত সাধ--
তোমার আশীর্বাদ হে প্রভু,
             তোমার আশীর্বাদ।

THE GIRLS ARE out to fetch water from the river- their laughter comes through the trees, I long to join them in the lane, where goats graze in the shade, and squirrels flit from sun to shadow, across the fallen leaves.
But my day's task is already done, my jars are filled. I stand at my door to watch the glistening green of the areca leaves, and hear the laughing women going to fetch water from the river.
It has ever been dear to me to carry the burden of my full vessel day after day, in the dew-dipped morning freshness and in the tired glimmer of the dayfall.
Its gurgling water babbled to me when my mind was idle, it laughed with the silent laughter of my joyous thoughts-it spoke to my heart with tearful sobs when I was sad. I have carried it in stormy days, when the loud rain drowned the anxious cooing of doves.
My day's task is done, my jars are filled, the light wanes in the west, and shadows gather beneath the trees; a sigh comes from the flowering linseed field, and my wistful eyes follow the lane, that runs through the village to the bank of the dark water.