O Sants, my mind pays me no heed, no heed at all.
Time and again have I declared to it, that life in this world is short.

In this thy mien take thou no pride, whether it be dark or fair.
Without the service of Hari the body, profits naught, be it anointed with an ocean of perfume.

In these thy means take thou no pride, whether they be elephants or horses.
In heaping and heaping up riches many went away, thousands, ten thousands, millions.

Doubt, lack of understanding, cunning — and life has gone, O foolish man.
Kabir says, Fix thy mind upon His feet, as the thread in the needle.