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Poem XCVIII

II. 98. ritu phâgun niyarânî

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.
Kabîr says: "Listen to me, brother' there are not many who have
  found this out."