XCIX

II. 111. Nârad, pyâr so antar nâhî OH Narad! I know that my Lover cannot be far: When my Lover wakes, I wake; when He sleeps, I sleep. He is destroyed at the root who gives pain to my Beloved. Where they sing His praise, there I live; When He moves, I walk before Him: my heart yearns for my Beloved. The infinite pilgrimage lies at His feet, a million devotees are seated there. Kabîr says: "The Lover Himself reveals the glory of true love." p. 145