A lissome shimmering cloth so fine,
O who spun this lustrous shine!
Whose spinning wheel pulled the world,
Into a weave, a soul unfurled
My Lord, for nine months hath spun
A fine cloth, a life begun
People, priests, gods embodied
Tossed it on and off, sullied
Kabir keeps it shimmering fine,
His soul mirrors the lustrous shine.
