IF THE RAGGED villager, trudging home from the market, could suddenly be lifted to the crest of a distant age, men would stop in their work and shout and run to him in delight. For they would no longer whittle down the man into the peasant, but find him full of the mystery and spirit of his age. Even his poverty and pain would grow great, released from the shallow insult of the present, and the paltry things in his basket would acquire pathetic dignity.
I.131. nis din khelat rahi sakhiyan sang I PLAYED day and night with my comrades, and now I am greatly afraid. So high is my Lord's palace, my heart trembles to mount its stairs: yet I must not be shy, if I would enjoy His love. My heart must cleave to my Lover; I must withdraw my veil, and meet Him with all my body: Mine eyes must perform the ceremony of the lamps of love. Kabir says: 'Listen to me, friend: he understands who loves. If you feel not love's longing for your Beloved One, it is vain to adorn your body, vain to put unguent on your eyelids.'