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Poem XVI

II. 59. jânh, cet acet khambh dôû

Between the poles of the conscious and the unconscious, there has
  the mind made a swing:
Thereon hang all beings and all worlds, and that swing never
  ceases its sway.
Millions of beings are there: the sun and the moon in their
  courses are there:
Millions of ages pass, and the swing goes on.
All swing! the sky and the earth and the air and the water; and
  the Lord Himself taking form:
And the sight of this has made Kabîr a servant.