We are indeed children of Light. What an endless mart goes on in the Light. In the Light is our sleeping and waking, the play of our life and death.
Beneath one great canopy, in the ray of one great sun, slowly, very slowly, burn the unnumbered lamps of life.
In the midst of this unending Light I lose myself; amidst this intolerable radiance I wander like one blind.
We are indeed children of Light. Why then do we fear when we see the Light? Come, let us look all around and see, here no man hath cause for any fear.

Thou desiredst one thing, but I did another.
Show me mercy: so shall I escape: if Thou wilt not, no resting place have I.

What I willed that I did: what Thou willedst, I did not.
Dadu is a guilty sinner: this I know within my heart.

Do whatever thou willest: I own my defeat.
Pardon, if Thou wilt, thy slave: or if thou wilt, seize and scourge him.

Lo! the heavy rain has come! With loosened tresses densely dark, lo! the sky is covered. Lightnings rend the thick darkness over the mountains. All around, to my heart's content, I see that beauty has burst forth.
See, frolicsome, she pours forth her loveliness in a thousand streams! Her raiment, hastily flung around her in disarray, mad passion in her eyes, with the voice of the papiya , full of sweetness and pity, she sings.

In spring for sheer delight
I set the lanterns swinging through the trees,
Bright as the myriad argosies of night,
That ride the clouded billows of the sky.
Red dragons leap and plunge in gold and silver seas,
And, O my garden gleaming cold and white,
Thou hast outshone the far faint moon on high.

Forgive this wrong:
That of your beauty I have made
Only a passing song,
Only a white-flower song that will fade
Ere I have time to lay it beneath
The shaped beauty of your feet.

Born in the hard days of Kali Juga, their deeds are like the crow, though their form be as the peacock.
They walk in evil paths, leaving the Vedas' way; vessels of deception, filled with the mire of Kali Juga.
Robbers, yet men call them servants of Rama: these slaves of gold and wealth and lust.
Among these in the world my rank is first: accursed am I, the scorner of godliness, that pass for the leader of the godly.
The Master is Rama, the evil servant such as I: yet of His own Self's prompting the Treasury of mercy cherished me.

I can not tell it, nor with it untold can I find rest: this great bliss my wretchedness, great beyond greatness, craves.
The greatness of the Lord is great, my littleness is little indeed, the Lord is holiness and I am gross with sin.
Thinking on this and that, shame and fear oppress the mind it dare not seek the presence of the Lord, whose countenance is alike to all.
Let the story of the praises of the Lord be sung: hands joined and bended head. He has respect unto the lowly, well versed in love's way.

The Lady Moon is my lover,
My friends are the oceans four,
The heavens have roofed me over,
And the dawn is my golden door
I would liefer follow the condor
Or the seagull, soaring from ken,
Than bury my godhead yonder
In the dust of the whirl of men.

Udho, the state, his Karma brings, is different for each.
All the rivers of sweet water fall into the ocean: why then is the ocean salt?
White feathers clothe the heron: wherefore is the Koil black?
Soft eyes are given to the deer: yet from jungle to jungle she roams in solitude.
Of the foolish and ignorant have kings been made: the learned made to beg his bread.
O Sur, in longing for the meeting with the Lord, each moment passes heavily.

Bring this to pass, Thou merciful to the humble,
That I may never for one moment leave Thy feet, Ocean of mercy, Author of Devotion.
The senses are invincible, the understanding cleaves to carnal desires: day after day the stirrings of the mind are but back-slidings.
In lust, and anger, in pride and coveting, every day, O Lord, I wander helplessly.
Contemplation, sacrifice and prayer, penance, pilgrimage and fast: no trace of these is written on my forehead.
What may I do? By what means can I please Thee, O Thou most Merciful?