This poem conveys the devotee's love and longing for the Lord. He has been blessed with divine love, his desires and passions have been subdued and he wants nothing except union with God; yet there is no response from Him. Kabir takes examples from nature to express the devotee's yearning to meet the Lord. After the summer months of scorching heat the monsoon showers cool the atmosphere and everything becomes green. Even lovers, at the coming of the rains try to be together, and wives are blessed by the return of their husbands from afar. But the pining soul, the devotee, is the only wife who has not met her Husband. Similarly, the approach of spring brings new life to nature, and plants affected by frost recover and bloom; but the heart of the loving devotee remains withered from the severe winter of separation.

After describing the depth of the devotee's agony, Kabir ends the poem on a note of happiness: A devotee's intense love and longing for the Lord can never go unfulfilled; it is always rewarded with the bliss of union. Kabir also points out that this union is only achieved by attaining the state of Sahaj through the divine melody of Shabd.

The Lord has become merciful to me,
The deadly viper of the passions has perished,
My soul has awoken from its long slumber
And within me love has emerged
In a surging wave.
There is joy all around me:
Joy for them who have met the Lord,
Whose long-cherished desire is fulfiled.

When the month of Ashad
Scorches the earth
With sizzling heat,
Cool showers come
To quench the earth's anguish.
In the refreshing rains
The earth comes back to life:
Raindrops fall like nectar from the skies;
Soft blades of grass sprout,
Shining with verdant smile.

So springs joy once again
In the hearts of separated wives,
For they're all united with their husbands;
All, except me.
My heart, beloved Lord,
Is burning to meet you.

What is it I have done
That you ignore me?
This creation is your play
But what is play to you
Has become for me
An endless agony of death,
For I have had to take
Round after round
In this whirligig of eighty-four.

I am your slave,
I am your child.
Despite my faults
I belong to you;
My reputation and my disgrace
Are yours too.

Beloved Lord, how am I to tell
The woeful tale of my countless misdeeds?
I am unfortunate that never once
Did you deign to grant me
One look of loving concern.

Dear Husband, separated from you
I have suffered, suffered much pain;
You know all, yet how is it
That your heart melts not,
That you remain unmoved?

If the clouds do not rain,
If heartlessly they race away,
The thirsty rainbird will not turn
Its face towards oceans of water,
Nor be drawn by lakes of nectar;
It will die, but not open its beak
To anything but the raindrop.

Thus I long for you, beloved Lord,
I am parched with thirst,
Pray quench it
With the nectar of union.
Without you I am averse
To all the pleasures of the world;
Lord, I yearn only to be with you.

This miserable beggar
Treasures only your love;
When she came across
The jewel of your Name,
Love and longing
Flared up within her.

Water is the life
Of the lotus flower;
A moment's separation
And it is scorched
By the sun's fiery rays.

So does my soul burn
In endless agony
Parted from you, my beloved Lord.
Even the mind, burning with desires,
Is trying to consume my soul.

The lotus flower,
Mercilessly hit
By the onslaught of winter and frost,
Is restored to life
By the tender touch of spring;
Once again the love-intoxicated
Bumblebee hovers
Over the lotus bloom;
Valleys and dales resound
To koel's jubilant strains.

Springtime brings joy to all;
To all but me, dear Lord.
Pining for you
My tearful nights,
Heavy and long,
Linger on like an age.
Without meeting you, Beloved,
Eon after eon has passed.

But when my soul awoke,
When to me your play
Appeared false,
I obtained the precious jewel
Of your love, my Lord.
You are moved to mercy;
Within my soul resounds
The divine melody of love.
Through Sahaj, O King of kings,
You have become mine;
You have occupied
The throne of my heart.

After endlessly burning in separation's flame,
I have reached the cool ocean of love and bliss;
Says Kabir: Through the Master's mercy and grace
Misery has ended, the bane of delusion has gone.

K.G., Dupadi Ramaini 1, p. 177
Bhayā dayāl bikh-har jari jāga