Swan, tell me your old story.
What country have you come from, swan, what shores are you
flying to?
Where do you rest at night, and what are you looking for?
It’s dawn, swan, wake up, soar into the air, follow me!
There is a land not governed by sadness and doubt, where the
Fear of death is unknown.
Spring forests bloom there and the wind is sweet with the flower
He-is-Myself.
The bee of the heart dives into it and wants no other joy.
~ Kabir, translated by Czeslaw Milosz and Robert Hass
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