II. 98. ritu phagun niyar ani THE MONTH of March draws near: ah, who will unite me to my Lover? How shall I find words for the beauty of my Beloved? For He is merged in all beauty. His colour is in all the pictures of the world, and it bewitches the body and the mind. Those who know this, know what is this unutterable play of the Spring. Kabir says: 'Listen to me, brother! there are not many who have found this out.'
IF I WERE ONLY a little puppy, not your baby, mother dear, would you say 'No' to me if I tried to eat from your dish? Would you drive me off, saying to me, 'Get away, you naughty little puppy?' Then go, mother, go! I will never come to you when you call me, and never let you feed me any more. If I were only a little green parrot, and not your baby, mother dear, would you keep me chained lest I should fly away? Would you shake your finger at me and say, 'What an ungrateful wretch of a bird! It is gnawing at its chain day and night?' Then, go, mother, go! I will run away into the woods; I will never let you take me in your arms again.