Longing, the Tormentor

The agony of longing has been personified by Kabir as a hunter — ruthless, but at the same time dear to the devotee's heart. The pain of separation from the Beloved is unbearable, but also sweet. The lover would like to be always in the presence of the Beloved, failing which he would like his thoughts to be fixed on Him without a break. Longing keeps the Beloved's memory alive in the lover's heart, and despite the anguish that accompanies it, its constant pain keeps the Beloved almost present with him. Kabir, while presenting virah or the agony of separation as a remorseless tormentor, also admires it as the necessary means for the devotee to realize the depth of divine love.

 

Don't resent the pain of longing,
O my mind, sensible and wise;
Let it consume
Your flesh, your bones,
And make you, while living,
Like a graveyard: dead.

 

K.S.S., p. 38:24

 

Severe is the blow of separation,
It has lacerated
My body and soul;
Only he will know my agony
Who has dealt the blow —
Or who like me bears the wound.

 

K.G., p. 7:14

 

The Beloved took the arrow
And balanced it on the bow;
The fatal shaft entered my heart —
Who knows if I'll survive
The agony
...or die.

 

K.G., p. 7:15

 

With my arteries as the strings,
My body as his lyre,
Separation day and night
Plays plaintive tunes.
Only my Beloved hears —
Or my lonely heart;
None else can hear
The wistful strain.

 

K.G., p. 7:20

 

The moment my Beloved
Shot me with his ruthless aim,
I realized the depth of his love;
I received a mortal wound
When his love pierced
My heart, my soul.

 

K.G., p. 7:16

 

The axe of longing
Has cut into my heart,
There is not a sign
That the wound will heal;
My doubts and delusion,
Avarice and attachment,
Have all dissolved —
Death seems to be certain.

 

K.S.S., p. 43:86

 

Longing, with forces arrayed,
Has advanced and besieged me;
He neither kills me
Nor lets me live —
I endure the anguish
Of a slow death.

 

K.S.S., p. 40:55

 

Kabir, the arrow with which
You wounded me yesterday
Has bewitched my heart;
With the same arrow today
Hit me again, O Beloved,
For without it I am
Restless and downcast.

 

K.G., p. 7:17

 

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