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.
Many hoped but no one found Hari's heart. really...
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
God in senses so very true. We seek God in things.