This poem, in the form of a dialogue between mind and soul, explains what are wisdom and folly, happiness and misery, friend and foe, truth and falsehood, and similar questions that may at times confront a seeker. Through the answers, Kabir gives the Saints' point of view on these questions and urges the seeker to judge these things from the higher objective of his ultimate spiritual goal.

Listen, my mind, you are
The storehouse of intelligence,
Ponder on what I ask you
And let me have your answer.

Who is wise, who is insane?
What actions lead to misery,
What actions bring misery to an end?
What is the source of happiness,
What is the cause of pain?
What is of benefit, what entails harm?
What is fruitful, what is vain?
Who is foe, who is friend?
What is truth, what is falsehood?
What is bitter, what is sweet?
Who burns in agony, who basks in joy?
Who is free from bondage,
Who has the noose around his neck?

Tell me, my mind,
Tell me the truth,
For doubts like thorns
Are hurting me, says Kabir.

O swan, think carefully on what I tell you.
The three worlds, the myriad species,
All dwell and suffer in darkness.
He is wise who values
The rare chance of human birth
And tries to realize the Lord;
He surely is insane
Who heedlessly wastes
The gift of the human form
And repents when it is dawn.

Devotion is the source of happiness,
Without devotion all is pain;
The Lord's love is the only nectar,
All else is a heap of poison.

To be absorbed in God
Alone is beneficial,
All other pursuits
Lead to sorrow and harm.

Company of the realized
Is fruitful,
Company of others
Is futile and vain.
The entire world is an enemy,
Only he who loves the Lord
Is your friend.

Truth is that
Which is immutable and permanent;
What comes and goes,
What changes and perishes,
Is false.

Sweet is that which is gained
Through Sahaj,
Bitter is that which comes
Through suppression and strain.

He does not burn in agony
Who gives up 'me' and 'mine',
But basks in bliss,
Trusting in the Lord,
Seeking only his pleasure.

He, indeed, is free
Who realizes his true self
And knows what is alien;
What do they know of liberation
Who still revolve in delusion?

The Lord is the support
Of the entire world,
He is dearer to me
Than my own life;
Love for Him I cherish
As the rarest of all treasures;
To live for sons and wealth,
For belongings and health,
O Kabir, is to be like the bird
Which during one night's stay
Starts loving the tree.

K.G., p. 176:6,7
Re re man budhiwant bhandārā