I Do Not Care About Social Norms – Mirabai

I will fasten the bells of his love to my feet
And dance in front of Girdhar.
Dancing and dancing I will please his eyes;
My love is an ancient one.
My love is the only truth.

I do not care about social norms
Nor do I keep my family’s honour.
I cannot forget, even for a moment,
The beauty of my lover.
I am dyed in Hari’s colour.

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Strange Is The Path When You Offer Love – Mirabai 

Do not mention the name of love, 

O my simple-minded companion. 

Strange is the path 

When you offer your love. 

Your body is crushed at the first step. 
If you want to offer love 

Be prepared to cut off your head 

And sit on it. 

Be like the moth, 

Which circles the lamp and offers its body. 

Be like the deer, which, on hearing the horn, 

Offers its head to the hunter. 

Be like the partridge, 

Which swallows burning coals 

In love of the moon. 

Be like the fish 

Which yields up its life 

When separated from the sea. 

Be like the bee, 

Entrapped in the closing petals of the lotus. 
Mira’s lord is the courtly Giridhara. 

She says: Offer your mind 

To those lotus feet.

Mine Is Gopal – Mirabai 

Mine Is Gopal 

Mine is Gopal, the Mountain-Holder; there is no one else. 

On his head he wears the peacock-crown: He alone is my husband. 

Father, mother, brother, relative: I have none to call my own. 

I’ve forsaken both God, and the family’s honor: what should I do? 

I’ve sat near the holy ones, and I’ve lost shame before the people. 

I’ve torn my scarf into shreds; I’m all wrapped up in a blanket. 

I took off my finery of pearls and coral, and strung a garland of wildwood flowers. 

With my tears, I watered the creeper of love that I planted; 

Now the creeper has grown spread all over, and borne the fruit of bliss. 

The churner of the milk churned with great love. 

When I took out the butter, no need to drink any buttermilk. 

I came for the sake of love-devotion; seeing the world, I wept. 

Mira is the maidservant of the Mountain-Holder: 

Now with love He takes me across to the further shore.

Mira Danced With Ankle Bells – Mirabai 

Mira danced with ankle-bells on her feet. 
People said Mira was mad; my mother-in-law 
said I ruined the family reputation. 
Rana sent me a cup of poison and Mira 
drank it laughing. 
I dedicated my body and soul at the feet of Hari. 
I am thirsty for the nectar of the sight of him. 
Mira’s lord is Giridhar Nagar; I will 
come for refuge to him.

The Heat Of Midnight Tears – Mirabai 

Listen, my friend, this road is the heart opening, 

Kissing his feet, resistance broken, tears all night. 
If we could reach the Lord through immersion in water, 

I would have asked to be born a fish in this life. 

If we could reach Him through nothing but berries and wild nuts, 

Then surely the saints would have been monkeys when they came from the womb! 

If we could reach him by munching lettuce and dry leaves, 

Then the goats would surely go to the Holy One before us! 
If the worship of stone statues could bring us all the way, 

I would have adored a granite mountain years ago. 
Mirabai says: The heat of midnight tears will bring you to God. 

The Dark One Is Krishna – Mirabai

Thick overhead 

clouds of the monsoon, 

a delight to this feverish heart. 

Season of rain, 

season of uncontrolled whispers—the Dark One’s returning! 

O swollen heart, 

O sky brimming with moisture— 

tongued lightning first 

and then thunder, 

convulsive spatters of rain 

and then wind, chasing the summertime heat. 
Mira says: Dark One, 

I’ve waited— 

it’s time to take my songs 

into the street.

The Plums Tasted – Mirabai

sweet to the unlettered desert-tribe girl- 

but what manners! To chew into each! She was ungainly, 

low-caste, ill mannered and dirty, 

but the god took the 

fruit she’d been sucking. 

Why? She’d knew how to love. 

She might not distinquish 

splendor from filth 

but she’d tasted the nectar of passion. 

Might not know any Veda, 

but a chariot swept her away- 

now she frolics in heaven, esctatically bound 

to her god. 

The Lord of Fallen Fools, says Mira, 

will save anyone 

who can practice rapture like that- 

I myself in a previous birth 

was a cowherding girl 

at Gokul.