Unless an object is seen
No desire for it can arise,
But whatever is seen is perishable!
Only that ascetic who repeats an articulate mantram
Having known Rama,
All feel delight;
When once the alchemist’s stone has been touched,
No doubts can remain.
The sage who has uprooted all the doubts of his mind
Enters and pervades the three worlds Without the need of a door.
All act according to the nature of their minds,
But the real agent is never visible.
Woodland trees bear their blossom
For the sake of the fruit alone.
When the fruit comes,
The flowers perish.
So spiritual practices
Are performed for the sake of knowledge alone;
And when knowledge comes,
All action vanishes.
People chum milk Only for the sake of ghee ;
The one who is already liberated in life
Does nothing—he rests perpetually in nirvana.
Passionlessness is the nature of the Supreme.
O wretched one,
Why dost thou not repeat the name of Rama In thy heart?
What is the nature of that devotion
By which one reaches that dearest Lord of our life?
The supreme means Is association with the good.
How long will I go on from body to body,
Like a man perpetually changing his linen?
How long will the sleep of ignorance
Continue to assail me?
Whatever one amasses Will one day be lost.
False and perishable are the goods
That are bought in the market of worldly life.
When the entries are made in the book
Not one of thy deeds will be omitted.
A family which includes a true devotee of Vishnu,
Whether it be rich or poor,
High caste, low caste or outcaste,
Is known in the world as an abode of purity.
Whether for Brahmins, Vaishyas, Shudras or Kshatriyas,
Sweepers, flesh-eaters or foreigners,
The rule holds good in every case.
If you perform worship of the holy Lord,
You save yourself
And both branches of your family as well.
Blessed is your village,
Blessed your dwelling-place
And blessed every member of your family.
Whoso drinks the potion of love of the Lord
And forsakes the potion of sense-objects,
The poisonous element in his worldly life
Becomes lost in the ocean of bhakti.
No one is the equal of a devotee,
Neither the scholar, the hero,
Nor the be-parasolled monarch.
He lives in the world untouched,
As the lotus-leaf lies untouched in the water.
In this world
Only the devotee can truly be said to be born.
What other master but thee Could behave like this?
The Lord, the friend of the poor,
Holds with his own hands A parasol over my head.
His mercy flows
Towards one whom the world regards as untouchable.
My Govind makes the low high;
He fears no one.
He saved Nama Deva, Kabir, Trilochana,
Sadana the butcher and Saina the barber.
Listen, ye men of good will!
All may find refuge in Lord Hari.
Taste the bliss
Of wedded union with the Lord!
Give up egoism,
Work for the bliss of dissolution in the Divine.
Offer up your body and mind,
And do not tolerate
The notion you are different from the Lord.
If you meet a base fellow,
Neither listen to him nor feel contempt.
How can the one who knows not the internal pain
From his own experience
Recognise it when it occurs in others?
Those who do not perform devotion
Are miserable in this world
And also in the next.
Hard is the path of the love of Rama;
There are no companions,
The journey must be made alone.
Pitiful and broken people tread it,
Who thirst much but without reward.
O Lord, my refuge is in thee.
Thou art my refuge,
Act as thou deemest best.
Poem of Raidas