Kabir
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FollowAbout Kabir
A fifteenth-century North Indian poet-saint, born into a Muslim weaving family and claimed by Hindus, Muslims and Sikhs alike, whose short poems attack ritual, caste, priests and scholars in the plainest possible language.
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The poems were sung rather than written and survive in many versions; there is no reliable single text and the tradition is oral. In English he is read through very free translations, most famously Tagore's and later Robert Bly's, which are closer to adaptations. The argument in them is constant: the divine is not in the temple or the book, and you are wasting your life looking there.
Read next
- Rabindranath Tagore — His most famous English translator.
- Kahlil Gibran — Wisdom literature in English translation.
- Thomas Merton — Contemplative poetry across traditions.
7 poems
04/28/2026 14:58h
To tonsured monks and dreadlocked Rastas,
To idol worshippers and idol smashers,
To fasting Jains and feasting Shaivites,
To Vedic pundits and Faber poets,
The weaver Kabir sends one message:
The noose of death hangs over all.
Only Rama’s name can save you.
Say it
now
.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
Plucking your eyebrows,
Putting on mascara,
But will that help you
To see things anew?
The one who sees
Is changed into
The one who’s seen
Only if one is
Salt and the other
Water. But you, says Kabir,
Are a dead
Lump of quartz.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
I won’t come
I won’t go
I won’t live
I won’t die
I’ll keep uttering
The name
And lose myself
In it
I’m bowl
And I’m platter
I’m man
And I’m woman
I’m grapefruit
And I’m sweet lime
I’m Hindu
And I’m Muslim
I’m fish
And I’m net
I’m fisherman
And I’m time
I’m nothing
Says Kabir
I’m not among the living
Or the dead
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04/28/2026 14:58h
How do you,
Asks the chief of police,
Patrol a city
Where the butcher shops
Are guarded by vultures;
Where bulls get pregnant,
Cows are barren,
And calves give milk
Three times a day;
Where mice are boatmen
And tomcats the boats
They row;
Where frogs keep snakes
As watchdogs,
And jackals
Go after lions?
Does anyone know
What I’m talking about?
Says Kabir.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
For Geoff Dyer
his front yard
is the true Benares
— Devara Dasimayya,
tr. A.K. Ramanujan
His death in Benares
Won’t save the assassin
From certain hell,
Any more than a dip
In the Ganges will send
Frogs—or you—to paradise.
My home, says Kabir,
Is where there’s no day, no night,
And no holy book in sight
To squat on our lives.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
god my darling
do me a favour and kill my mother-in-law
—Janabai, tr. Arun Kolatkar
Chewing slowly,
Only after I’d eaten
My grandmother,
Mother,
Son-in-law,
Two brothers-in-law,
And father-in-law
(His big family included)
In that order,
And had for dessert
The town’s inhabitants,
Did I find, says Kabir,
The beloved that I’ve become
One with.
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04/28/2026 14:58h
Brother, I’ve seen some
Astonishing sights:
A lion keeping watch
Over pasturing cows;
A mother delivered
After her son was;
A guru prostrated
Before his disciple;
Fish spawning
On treetops;
A cat carrying away
A dog;
A gunny-sack
Driving a bullock-cart;
A buffalo going out to graze,
Sitting on a horse;
A tree with its branches in the earth,
Its roots in the sky;
A tree with flowering roots.
This verse, says Kabir,
Is your key to the universe.
If you can figure it out.
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