He left his home, in the guise of Sadhu: but truth was never in him.
Dharni, the Lord takes no delight, looking on such a pose as this.
The habit he wore but knew not mercy: his thoughts are all of Bhang and Dhatura.
Dharni, the Lord is not so simple, as to be fooled by such a show.

Am I, am I, am I beautiful? It seems to me my brow is fair, my face gentle and my mouth rich red. Tell me, am I beautiful?
I have grey eyes, and little eyebrows, gold hair and comely nose, round chin, white throat. Am I, am I, am I beautiful?
My breast is firm and seated high, my arms are long, my fingers fine, and I am slim in the waist, Tell me, am I beautiful?
My feet are small and plump, my shoes and clothes are fair, gay and frolicsome am I. Tell me, am I beautiful?

Pierced with the arrow of wisdom, O Dharni, startled sleepers suddenly awoke.
The poisoned bonds of evil were loosened: they were steeped in the perfect pure nectar of love.
They cared no more for arguings, wrangles and dogma: all they had relished, they now abandoned.
Their eyes were closed from the very moment, that the inward sight in the heart was theirs.

For but four days thy wealth is thy companion: it lasts so short a spell, why care for it?
Keep in thy heart the one Lord's name: O Dharni, if you would cross the ocean of the world.
Learn thy true duty, know the truth: renounce not faith: this world is not thy home.
Hold fast to the Saint's feet, and relieve the pains of others: life is of little worth and death is sure.

Lonely and deep in thought I go, a wayfarer through unfrequented fields, with heavy steps and slow; and fix my gaze to shun the trace of human foot.
No other ward I find to shield me from men's manifest notice; since I am naked of all happiness all men may read without how I do burn within.
Thus I now think that hills and slopes, rivers and woods must know the temper of my mind, else hidden from the world.
And yet no ways I seek, however rugged and however wild, but Love comes too, reasoning with me, and I with him.

For June I give you a little mountain covered with fair little trees, thirty villages and twelve towers surrounding a little city.
And in its midst a little fountain with a thousand branches and rivulets flowering through gardens and little lawns to refresh the minute short grass.
Oranges, citrons, dates and limes and all other savoury fruits made into long arches for the walks;
And let the people there be so amorous and do each other so much courtesy that they may be gracious to all the world.

Before the door of each and all a slumber-place is ready set:
men wane and dwindle, and the graves in number grow from day to day;
And ever more and more out-worn the traces fade of hearth and
home, and ever yonder for some dead is newly built a house of clay.
Yea, neighbors are they of the living: near and close their fel-
lowship; but if thy soul would seek their converse, thou must seek it far away.

O Soul, thou hast missed all the meaning of life — why hast thou lost it so?
Fool, ceasing to serve the feet of the Lord, thou wanderest blindly like a drunken man.
Cleaving fast to the world's desires, thou hast abandoned all thy worth.
Enslaved by lust and wrath and coveting, to thine own true good thou hast paid no heed.
Wealth, wife and sons will not avail thee, upon whom thou hast relied.
Wouldst thou be freed from sin and suffering from heart-burning and pain,
Then, Girdhar Lal, seek the refuge of Hari, the Guardian of all life in the world.

From the rose-gardens of Time, fragrant and fresh, in ecstasies of light — Day has come! How many an age of silent love hath breathed and breathed upon his cheeks that tender flush of rose?
The blue in his eyes — from what lakes of enchantment hath he drunk? The radiant colours of his thought — from what infinite wonder hath he made? The glory of his love for whom, for whom hath he brought? For whom, for whom the music of his clouds, his winds, his birds? The secrets of his soul for whom, for whom?

If any hungers for the love of Gopala,
The life of such a dervesh as he is rare indeed.
They are happy resting on the image of the Lord.
The world they have forsaken and upon faith taken their stand.
From no one do they need to ask: another thought fills their mind.
They roam as men inebriated — and of their bodies take no heed.
Maluk says — They see the Peerless.
They have no concern with others but are within enlightened.