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Poem XCII

III. 110. carkhâ calai surat virahin kâ

The woman who is parted from her lover spins at the spinning
  wheel.
The city of the body arises in its beauty; and within it the
  palace of the mind has been built.
The wheel of love revolves in the sky, and the seat is made of
  the jewels of knowledge:
What subtle threads the woman weaves, and makes them fine with
  love and reverence!
Kabîr says: "I am weaving the garland of day and night. When my
  Lover comes and touches me with His feet, I shall offer Him my
  tears."