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Poem LII

I. 130. sâîn vin dard kareje hoy

When I am parted from my Beloved, my heart is full of misery: I
  have no comfort in the day, I have no sleep in the night. To
  whom shall I tell my sorrow?
The night is dark; the hours slip by. Because my Lord is absent,
  I start up and tremble with fear.
Kabîr says: "Listen, my friend! there is no other satisfaction,
  save in the encounter with the Beloved."