THE SONG OF THE SIKH
by Gurdip Singh Sekhon.

Ah! well let my hair grow long,
and long the Chant of the Guru's Song,
and let my breath burn with his Name,
and if I sing, I am the Brother of man,
a silent Craftsman that builds a Sikh out of his clay,
I would fain be a Disciple diffused through the ages.
My clay is not yet shaded so well,
my ray has not yet its Sway of Love,
yet a brother of man, a man,
a slave who merges in the Master,
a slave and the Master in the slave,
my body is His Temple and Palace,
a poor mud-house yet a temple, a palace and Kingdom!
I would fain be a Disciple diffused through the ages,
I am a Punjabi, but not a Punjabi withal,
the men and women of all the earth have my hands and feet,
and the dwellers of Heaven the same,
and both have my silence and tears and the same is the speech of love,
I cannot forget the knot He tied on my head,
it is sacred, it is remembrance;
The Master has bathed me in the light of suns not yet seen.
There is eternity bound in the tender fragile knot.
I touch the Raven Sky when I touch my hair,
and a thousand stars twinkle through the night,
I would fain be a Disciple diffused through the ages.
I do not say this is the Master's religion;
I may be uncouth and hairy,
but have you seen my heart?
It longs, it quivers, it lives, it dies, it burns, it glows, it hopes,
it is the Heart of Humanity,
it is the Soul of Creation's mystery.
The forests and rivers are images of me.
And the very snowy peaks have my gray locks of age.
I would fain be a Disciple diffused through the ages.
I do not say this is the Master's religion;
I do not say the hair is any more than grass;
human bones are but pieces of lime,
yet a single hair is dear remembrance,
a trust, a pledge, a love, a vow, an inspiration.
My form is but a statue of dumb gratitude for the Knot of Friendship
tied by those Kings of Eternity,
the Gurus who came to the Punjab,
the Saviors who condescend to Love me
and made me a home in the Realms of the Beautiful ones,
there yonder!
I know I shall go there to them,
to those far-off palaces of Kings of Love,
and there new robes wait for me,
and great noble loves!
I would fain be a Disciple diffused through the ages.