Kabir

(1440 - 1518 / Pratapgar, Uttar Pradesh, India)

Many Hoped


Many hoped
but no one found
Hari's heart.
Where do the senses rest?
Where do the Ram-chanters go?
Where do the bright ones go?
Corpses: all gone
to the same place.
Drunk on the juice
of Ram's bliss,
Kabir says,
I've said and I've said,
I'm tired of saying.

Submitted: Wednesday, May 02, 2012
Edited: Wednesday, May 02, 2012

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Poet's Notes about The Poem

Collected from The Bijak of Kabir, Translated by Linda Hess / Shukdeo Singh

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