The Confidante Loquitur
That gay one who is the abode of virtue
Incessantly murmurs thy name,
On hearing a word of thee
His limbs are pervaded by a thrill,
Bending down lowly his head
Tears pour from his eyes,
If one should ask him a word
He waves (him) away with his hand,
If one should speak concerning thee
Thou wilt see there is nothing else in his mind.
There is no firmness (left) in him;
A serious matter Cha.n.dî Dâs sings.
[From 'Sacred Texts']