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Poem XLIII

I. 82. pânî vic mîn piyâsî

I laugh when I hear that the fish in the water is thirsty:
You do not see that the Real is in your home, and you wander from
  forest to forest listlessly!
Here is the truth! Go where you will, to Benares or to Mathura;
  if you do not find your soul, the world is unreal to you.