Short Poems

Two legs sat upon three legs
With one leg in his lap;
In comes four legs
And runs away with one leg;
Up jumps two legs,
Catches up three legs,
Throws it after four legs,
And makes him bring back one leg.

Little Betty Blue
Has lost her holiday shoe,
Give her another
To match the other,
And then she will walk in two.

There was an old boy, with a new coat and breeches,
Who jumped over fences and tumbled in ditches,
While the mud and the mire spattered higher and higher,
Till he went to the fire, and, as he grew drier,
Burnt great holes in his new coat and breeches.

Splendid breasts—
there is a mosquito.

Den alten Meister würdig zu geleiten.
Am Tag, den uns ein Gott heraufbeschwor,
Umgebe ihn von allen Seiten
Ein auserlesner Jünger Chor
Heut für mein leichtes Schiffchen, das ihn führt,
Sind zwei beinah schon mehr, als sich gebührt:
Sonst wär ich edler Namen wegen
Aus Schwaben wahrlich nicht verlegen.

From the sight of my Lover's bed I come.
The bed of my Lover is the path of the Sat Guru.

Sabda is the lock and Sabda the key, the chain thereof is Sabda too.
The Sabdas are coverlets, the mattress Sabda: the Sabda the sheet of many colours.

In the form of Sabda the Lord is seated: at His feet I lay down my head.
Dulam Das, praise the Lord Jagjivan: thy body by his fire illumined.

Nothing have I achieved, Thus all is wasted, only regrets remain.
I offered not my head, nor drank the drops of love.
Alas, what have I done?
Not with His colour dyed, nor drunken with love's nectar, no song upon my lips.

I found not my love, fulfilled my own desires, and nothing was accomplished.
I, I, am sore dismayed; my hope is all in Thee. Cries Dadu Das.

I asked the roses as they grew
Richer and lovelier in hue,
What made their tints so rich and bright?
They answered, “Looking toward the light.”
Ah, secret dear, said heart of mine,
God meant my life to be like thine,
Radiant with heavenly beauty bright,
By simply looking toward the light.

Winter 's back wi' snaw an' sleet
Tho' lilac braks the bud.
Unco roads an' a'thing weet—
Winter 's back wi' snaw an' sleet
Mend the fire wi' guid black peat—
Soakin' claes an' clorts o' mud;
Winter 's back wi' snaw and sleet
Tho' lilac braks the bud.

Her tears are spent, but no dreams come.
She can hear the others singing through the night.
She has lost his love. Alone with her beauty,
She leans till dawn on her incense-pillow.