Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
Until I see my teacher, I cannot even sleep. My whole body and mind ache with missing — it hurts to be apart. So I ask: please, be kind to me, bring me to the Guru. Because the moment I meet the Guru, everything in me lights up with joy.
The shabad closes by returning to its truest note: longing. Bin gur dekhe need na aavai — "without seeing the Guru, sleep won't come." This is the classic symptom of viraha, the lover's separation-pain, found in Sufi and bhakti poetry alike: the beloved cannot rest, cannot eat, cannot sleep. The word birahu (separation) is named directly — gur birahu lagaavai, the ache of being apart from the Guru has lodged itself in mind and body like an illness.
But notice: this is not despair. It is alive longing. The final line turns the ache into a prayer — daiaa karahu, "show mercy" — and ends in rahsai, blossoming, delight. The pain of separation and the joy of meeting are two ends of the same love. The verse signed jan Naanak ("servant Nanak") follows the tradition of each Guru signing in the name of Nanak, marking the one light passing through the lineage — here, Guru Ram Das writing as Nanak.
So the whole shabad has moved: from "show me the way" (Rahao), to "the way is the Sat Sangat" (P1), to "the Guru is my parent and the water that opens me" (P2), to this final cry that the very ache is itself love straining toward its fullness.
Have you ever missed someone so much it kept you awake? What does that tell you about how much you love them?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI