| MY heart cries aloud for the house of my lover; the open road and the shelter of a roof are all one to her
 who has lost the city of her Beloved.
 
 My heart finds no joy in anything:
 my mind and my body are distraught.
 His palace has a million gates,
 but there is a vast ocean between it and me:
 How shall I cross it, O friend?
 for endless is the outstretching of the path.
 
 How wondrously this lyre is wrought!
 When its strings are rightly strung,
 it maddens the heart:
 but when the keys are broken
 and the strings are loosened,
 none regard it more.
 
 I tell my friends with laughter
 that I must go to my Beloved in the morning;
 They are angry, for they do not want me to go,
 and they say:
 "She thinks she has gained such dominion over her Beloved
 that she can have whatsoever she wishes;
 and therefore she is impatient to go to him."
 
 Dear friend, lift my veil lightly now;
 for this is the night of love.
 
 Kabîr says:
 "Listen to me!
 My heart is eager to meet my lover:
 I lie sleepless upon my bed.
 Remember me early in the morning!"
 
 ~ Kabir
 The Songs of Kabir,
 tr. by Rabindranath Tagore
 Art by Natalia Tejera
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