I hear the melody of His flute, and I cannot contain myself:
The flower blooms, though it is not spring;
and already the bee has received its invitation.
The sky roars and the lightning flashes,
the waves arise in my heart,
The rain falls; and my heart longs for my Lord.
Where the rhythm of the world rises and falls,
thither my heart has reached:
There the hidden banners are fluttering in the air.
Kabir says: "My heart is dying, though it lives."
