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III. 90. naihar se jiyarâ phât re

My heart cries aloud for the house of my lover; the open road and
  the shelter of a roof are all one to her who has lost the city
  of her husband.
My heart finds no joy in anything: my mind and my body are
His palace has a million gates, but there is a vast ocean between
  it and me:
How shall I cross it, O friend? for endless is the outstretching
  of the path.
How wondrously this lyre is wrought! When its strings are
  rightly strung, it maddens the heart: but when the keys are
  broken and the strings are loosened, none regard it more.
I tell my parents with laughter that I must go to my Lord in the

They are angry, for they do not want me to go, and they say: "She
  thinks she has gained such dominion over her husband that she
  can have whatsoever she wishes; and therefore she is impatient
  to go to him."
Dear friend, lift my veil lightly now; for this is the night of
Kabîr says: "Listen to me! My heart is eager to meet my lover: I
  lie sleepless upon my bed. Remember me early in the morning!"