II.77. maddh akas ap jahan baithe THE MIDDLE region of the sky, wherein the spirit dwelleth, is radiant with the music of light; There, where the pure and white music blossoms, my Lord takes His delight. In the wondrous effulgence of each hair of His body, the brightness of millions of suns and of moons is lost. On that shore there is a city, where the rain of nectar pours and pours, and never ceases. Kabir says: 'Come, O Dharmadas! and see my great Lord's Durbar.'
COME, SPRING, reckless lover of the earth, make the forest's heart pant for utterance! Come in gusts of disquiet where flowers break open and jostle the new leaves! Burst, like a rebellion of light, through the night's vigil, through the lake's dark dumbness, through the dungeon under the dust, proclaiming freedom to the shackled seeds! Like the laughter of lightning, like the shout of a storm, break into the midst of the noisy town; free stifled word and unconscious effort, reinforce our flagging fight, and conquer death!