Classic Poem

Within thy heart know the Beloved.
To its own happiness the whole world is bound: none careth for another.

In days of happiness all sit about thy feet: on every side they compass thee about.
But troubles come, and all with one accord desert thee: none comes nigh.

The wife of thy bosom, whom thou cherishest, clings to thee ever.
Soon as thy soul departs the body, she flees screaming, “Avaunt, Avaunt.”

Such is the fashion of the world's trafficking: to this thou hast given thy heart away.
At the last, O Nanak, save only Hari, none availeth ought.