Ang 1108

In the month of Chayt, the lovely spring has come, and the bumble bees hum with joy. The forest is blossoming in front of my door; if only my Beloved would return to my home! If her Husband Lord does not return home, how can the soul-bride find peace? Her body is wasting away with the sorrow of separation. The beautiful song-bird sings, perched on the mango tree; but how can I endure the pain in the depths of my being? The bumble bee is buzzing around the flowering branches; but how can I survive? I am dying, O my mother! O Nanak, in Chayt, peace is easily obtained, if the soul-bride obtains the Lord as her Husband, within the home of her own heart. ||5|| Baisakhi is so pleasant; the branches blossom with new leaves. The soul-bride yearns to see the Lord at her door. Come, O Lord, and take pity on me! Please come home, O my Beloved; carry me across the treacherous world-ocean. Without You, I am not worth even a shell. Who can estimate my worth, if I am pleasing to You? I see You, and inspire others to see You, O my Love. I know that You are not far away; I believe that You are deep within me, and I realize Your Presence. O Nanak, finding God in Baisakhi, the consciousness is filled with the Word of the Shabad, and the mind comes to believe. ||6|| The month of Jayt’h is so sublime. How could I forget my Beloved? The earth burns like a furnace, and the soul-bride offers her prayer. The bride offers her prayer, and sings His Glorious Praises; singing His Praises, she becomes pleasing to God. The Unattached Lord dwells in His true mansion. If He allows me, then I will come to Him. The bride is dishonored and powerless; how will she find peace without her Lord? O Nanak, in Jayt’h, she who knows her Lord becomes just like Him; grasping virtue, she meets with the Merciful Lord. ||7|| The month of Aasaarh is good; the sun blazes in the sky. The earth suffers in pain, parched and roasted in the fire. The fire dries up the moisture, and she dies in agony. But even then, the sun does not grow tired. His chariot moves on, and the soul-bride seeks shade; the crickets are chirping in the forest. She ties up her bundle of faults and demerits, and suffers in the world hereafter. But dwelling on the True Lord, she finds peace. O Nanak, I have given this mind to Him; death and life rest with God. ||8|| In Saawan, be happy, O my mind. The rainy season has come, and the clouds have burst into showers. My mind and body are pleased by my Lord, but my Beloved has gone away. My Beloved has not come home, and I am dying of the sorrow of separation. The lightning flashes, and I am scared. My bed is lonely, and I am suffering in agony. I am dying in pain, O my mother! Tell me — without the Lord, how can I sleep, or feel hungry? My clothes give no comfort to my body. O Nanak, she alone is a happy soul-bride, who merges in the Being of her Beloved Husband Lord. ||9||

In Bhaadon, the young woman is confused by doubt; later, she regrets and repents. The lakes and fields are overflowing with water; the rainy season has come — the time to celebrate! In the dark of night it rains; how can the young bride find peace? The frogs and peacocks send out their noisy calls. “Pri-o! Pri-o! Beloved! Beloved!” cries the sparrow-hawk, while the snakes slither around, biting. The mosquitoes bite and sting, and the ponds are filled to overflowing; without the Lord, how can she find peace? O Nanak, I will go and ask my Guru; wherever God is, there I will go. ||10|| In Assu, come, my Beloved; the soul-bride is grieving to death. She can only meet Him, when God leads her to meet Him; she is ruined by the love of duality. If she is plundered by falsehood, then her Beloved forsakes her. Then, the white flowers of old age blossom in my hair. Summer is now behind us, and the winter season is ahead. Gazing upon this play, my shaky mind wavers. In all ten directions, the branches are green and alive. That which ripens slowly, is sweet. O Nanak, in Assu, please meet me, my Beloved. The True Guru has become my Advocate and Friend. ||11|| In Katak, that alone comes to pass, which is pleasing to the Will of God. The lamp of intuition burns, lit by the essence of reality. Love is the oil in the lamp, which unites the soul-bride with her Lord. The bride is delighted, in ecstasy. One who dies in faults and demerits — her death is not successful. But one who dies in glorious virtue, really truly dies. Those who are blessed with devotional worship of the Naam, the Name of the Lord, sit in the home of their own inner being. They place their hopes in You. Nanak: please open the shutters of Your Door, O Lord, and meet me. A single moment is like six months to me. ||12|| The month of Maghar is good, for those who sing the Glorious Praises of the Lord, and merge in His Being. The virtuous wife utters His Glorious Praises; my Beloved Husband Lord is Eternal and Unchanging. The Primal Lord is Unmoving and Unchanging, Clever and Wise; all the world is fickle. By virtue of spiritual wisdom and meditation, she merges in His Being; she is pleasing to God, and He is pleasing to her. I have heard the songs and the music, and the poems of the poets; but only the Name of the Lord takes away my pain. O Nanak, that soul-bride is pleasing to her Husband Lord, who performs loving devotional worship before her Beloved. ||13||