He sees the terrible, awful wilderness as a city. Page 708 Gazing upon the false objects, he believes them to be real. Engrossed in sexual desire, anger and egotism, he wanders around insane. When the Messenger of Death hits him on the head with his club, then he regrets and repents. Without the Perfect, Divine Guru, he roams around like Satan.
Power is fraudulent, beauty is fraudulent, and wealth is fraudulent, as is pride of ancestry.
One may gather poison through deception and fraud, O Nanak, but without the Lord, nothing shall go along with him in the end. Beholding the bitter melon, he is deceived, since it appears so pretty. Your mind cannot be pleased. One who forsakes God, and attaches himself to another, shall be immersed in hell. Be kind and compassionate to Nanak, O Lord, and dispel his fear.