Untitled by Kabir
I talk to my inner lover, and I say, why such rush?
We sense that there is some sort of spirit that loves birds and animals and the ants—
perhaps the same one who gave a radiance to you in your mother’s womb.
Is it logical you would be walking around entirely orphaned now?
The truth is you turned away yourself,
and decided to go into the dark alone.
Now you are tangled up in others, and have forgotten
what you once knew,
and that’s why everything you do has some weird
failure in it.
I find Kabir to be so down to earth. Some poetry is very flowery and esoteric, but he just gets right to the heart of it, and it makes me laugh. He doesn’t try to make you feel better.
I think the “failure” in the poem refers to a disconnection from the Divine, or Spirit. In the Bhagavad Gita and the Yoga Sutra, you see this idea of what is immortal and what is temporary. Our lives are a temporary human birth. Yoga asks us to go deeper than our bodies and minds and look at who we really are. What is the essence of our being? Our human problem is that we turned away from ourselves and decided to go into the dark alone. That’s the human condition. We are so lost in our heads. Like yoga, the poem tells us to get over ourselves. It’s a wake-up call of sorts—but it’s a very kind one.
This poem evokes someone talking to themself: I talk to my inner lover. In my yoga practice, I remind myself that this connection is there for me, always. I forget, and then I need to remember. This poem reminds you of your relationship to yourself and the truth of who you are.