"By the saints the butter is eaten, the world drinks the buttermilk."
A Christian might have written the following verse:—
"The saints have died; why should weeping be made
that they go to their home
The stars at dawn pass away, so the world passes away."
Like Goru Nanak, in his writings the gifted weaver expresses deep humility:—
"Every one says (I am) good, good: no one considers
(himself) bad.
Kabir says, I am the worst of all; every one is good
except me.
Who considers himself in this light, he is my friend."
With playful irony the poet says to some Oriental fop:—
"On which head (thou art) arranging and fastening a
turban,
That head the bill of the crow will dress."
Then the light but keen edge of his wit strikes the hoarder of wealth:—
"To the miser wealth is given for the sake of keeping it,
The fool says 'The property is mine.'
When the staff of Zama (death) is struck on his head,
The matter is decided in a moment."
Thus Kabir writes of the Mahomedan's loud formal call to prayer:—