Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa
Imagine every plant on earth bursting with fruit, and the very grass turning into sweet rice. Imagine having such power that you could freeze the sun and the moon in the sky and hold them perfectly still.
Even with all that plenty, and all that power, I would still want only you. My longing to sing your praises would not fade by even a little.
The second shalok in the set adds a new temptation to the first. Where the opening imagined infinite abundance, this one imagines infinite abundance plus supernatural power: not only all vegetation turned to fruit and grass to sweet rice, but the ability to stop the sun and the moon in their orbits and hold them perfectly steady. This is the language of siddhis — the miraculous powers that yogis sought through lifetimes of austerity, the power to command the cosmos itself.
And the refrain answers again, unchanged: even then, I would worship and adore You, and my longing to chant Your Praises would not decrease. This is a pointed addition, because in Guru Nanak's world, spiritual powers were often treated as the goal — the proof of attainment, the prize of practice. He sweeps them aside. Even if you could halt the sun in the sky, that power would not satisfy the soul's true longing, nor replace it. The one who loves the One does not want to command creation; they want the Creator.
Together with the first shalok, a pattern emerges: neither the maximum of pleasure (milk-rivers, gold mountains) nor the maximum of power (stopping sun and moon) can touch the soul's love for the One. Both are the things people chase as ultimate — wealth and power — and both are shown to be beside the point. The longing is not for what the One can give or what the soul could become; it is for the One alone. Strip away every reward and every power, and the love stands exactly as tall.
If you suddenly had enormous power, would it satisfy your deepest longing — or just reveal what that longing was really for?
Translation by Dr. Sant Singh Khalsa·How we use AI