The woman who is parted from her lover spins at the spinning wheel.
The city of the body arises in its beauty; and within it the palace of the mind has been built.
The wheel of love revolves in the sky, and the seat is made of the jewels of knowledge:
What subtle threads the woman weaves, and makes them fine with love and reverence!
Kabir says: “I am weaving the garland of day and night. When my Lover comes and touches me with His feet, I shall offer Him my tears.”
(translated by Rabindranath Tagore)