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Poems about Spiritual
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Tell me not, in mournful numbers,
Life is but an empty dream! —
Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high
Where knowledge is free
I seem to have loved you in numberless forms, numberless times…
In life after life, in age after age, forever.
This being human is a guest house.
Every morning a new arrival.
Tyger! Tyger! burning bright In the forest of the night
I note the obvious differences
in the human family.
Little Lamb, who made thee?
Dost thou know who made thee?
And a woman who held a babe against her bosom said, "Speak to us of Children." And he said:
One day in spring, a woman came
In my lonely woods,
I was sleeping when Namdeo and Vitthal Stepped into my dream.
"Your job is to make poems. Stop wasting time," Namdeo said.
When midnight mists are creeping,
And all the land is sleeping,
They shut the road through the woods
Seventy years ago.
The night is darkening round me,
The wild winds coldly blow;
If you've seen a mount of sea foam, It is my verse you have seen:
A true lover is proved such by his pain of heart;
No sickness is there like sickness of heart.
What is seen is not the Truth
What is cannot be said
by Kabir
28 lines, 7 comments
Before the beginning
God created God
THIS is thy hour O Soul, thy free flight into the wordless,
Away from books, away from art, the day erased, the lesson done,
Till dawn the winds' insuperable throng passed over like archangels in their might,
The song I came to sing
remains unsung to this day.
Where are you, my beloved? Are you in that little
Paradise, watering the flowers who look upon you
Vaishnav jan to tene kahiye je
PeeD paraayi jaaNe re
Mary stood in the kitchen
Baking a loaf of bread.
My peace, O my brothers and sisters, is my solitude,
And my Beloved is with me always,
Three days I heard them grieve when I lay dead,
(It was so strange to me that they should weep!)
We meet and part now over all the world;
we, the lost company,
I am mad with love
And no one understands my plight.
Clouds rumbling in the sky; teeming rain.
I sit on the river bank, sad and alone.
Time is endless in thy hands, my lord.
There is none to count thy minutes.
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