If thou wouldst hear the Nameless

If thou wouldst hear the Nameless, and wilt dive
Into the Temple-cave of thine own Self.

There brooding by the central altar, thou
Mayest haply learn the Nameless has a voice,

By which thou wilt abide, if thou be wise,
As if thou knowest, though can’st not know;

For knowledge is the swallow on the lake
That sees and stirs the surface-shadow there,

But never yet hath dipt into the abysm,
The abysm of all abysms, beneath, within,

The blue of sky and sea, the green of earth,
And in the millionth of a grain

Which cleft and cleft again for ever more,
And ever vanishing, never vanishes,

To me, my son, more mystic than myself,
Or even than the Nameless is to me.

And when thou sendest thy free soul through heaven
Nor understandest bound nor boundlessness

Thou seest the Nameless of the hundred names,
And if the Nameless should withdraw from all,

Thy frailty counts most real, all thy world
Might vanish like thy shadow in the dark.

Once in Persia reigned a king

Once in Persia reigned a king,
Who upon a signet ring,
Carved a maxim strange and wise,
When held before his eyes,
Gave him counsel at a glance,
Fit for every change and chance:
Solemn words, and these were they:
“EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY.”

Trains of camel through the sand
Brought him gems from Samarcand;
Fleets of galleys over the seas
Brought him pearls to rival these,
But he counted little gain,
Treasures of the mine or main;
“What is wealth?” the king would say,
“EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY.”

Mid the pleasures of his court
At the zenith of their sport,
When the palms of all his guests
Burned with clapping at his jests,
Seated midst the figs and wine,
Said the king, “Ah, friends of mine.
Pleasure comes but not to stay,
“EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY.”

Woman, fairest ever seen
Was the bride he crowned as queen,
Pillowed on the marriage-bed
Whispering to his soul, he said,
“Though no monarch ever pressed
Fairer bosom to his breast,
Mortal flesh is only clay!
“EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY.”

Fighting on the furious field,
Once a javelin pierced his shield,
Soldiers with a loud lament
Bore him bleeding to his tortured side,
“Pain is hard to bear;” he cried.
“But with patience, day by day,
EVEN THIS WILL PASS AWAY.”

I am not known

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Not in the holy Vedas, am I
Nor in opium, neither in wine
Not in the drunkard`s intoxicated craze
Niether awake, nor in a sleeping daze

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

In happiness nor in sorrow, am I
Neither clean, nor a filthy mire
Not from water, nor from earth
Neither fire, nor from air, is my birth

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

Not an Arab, nor Lahori
Neither Hindi, nor Nagauri
Hindu, Turk, nor Peshawari
Nor do I live in Nadaun

Bulleh! to me, I am not known

I am the mote in the sunbeam

“I am the mote in the sunbeam,
and I am the burning Sun,Rest here?

I whisper the atom,
I call to the orb, “Roll on!

“I am the blush of the morning,
and I am the evening breeze;

I am the leaf’s low murmur,
the swell of the terrible seas.

The lover’s passionate pleading,
the maiden’s whispered fears;

The warrior, the blade that strikes him,
his mother’s heart wrung fear.

The rose, her poet nightingale,
the songs from the throat that rise,

The flint, the sparks, the taper,
the moth that about it flies.

I am intoxication, grapes,
winepress and musk, and wine,

The guest, the host, the traveller,
the goblet of crystal fine.

I am the Unseen Spirit which informs

I am the Unseen Spirit which informs
All subtle essence! I flame in fire,

I shine in Sun and Moon,planets and stars!
I blow with the winds,roll with the waves!

I am the man and woman,youth and maid!
The babe newborn, the withered ancient, propped

Upon his staff! I am Whatever is—
The black bee and the tiger and the fish,

The green birds with red eyes, the tree,
the grass,The cloud that hath the lightning in its womb,

The seasons and the seas!
In Me they are,In Me begin and end.