I know of nothing else but miracles - Walt Whitman

I have no miracles but the true name. - Guru Nanak. 

I am listening to Satnam meditation while reading this poem about Miracles by Walt Whitman and a similarly intoxicating poem, Vismaad by Guru Nanak today ...

- Walt Whitman

REALISM is mine, my miracles,
Take all of the rest—take freely—I keep
but my own—I give only of them,
I offer them without end—I offer them to you
wherever your feet can carry you, or your
eyes reach.

Why! who makes much of a miracle?
As to me, I know of nothing else but miracles,
Whether I walk the streets of Manhattan,
Or dart my sight over the roofs of houses toward
the sky,
Or wade with naked feet along the beach, just in
the edge of the water,
Or stand under trees in the woods,
Or talk by day with any one I love—or sleep in
the bed at night with any one I love,
Or sit at the table at dinner with my mother,
Or look at strangers opposite me riding in the car,
Or watch honey-bees busy around the hive, of an
August forenoon,
Or animals feeding in the fields,
Or birds—or the wonderfulness of insects in the
Or the wonderfulness of the sun-down—or of
stars shining so quiet and bright,
Or the exquisite, delicate, thin curve of the new-
moon in May,
Or whether I go among those I like best, and that
like me best—mechanics, boatmen, farmers,
Or among the savans—or to the soiree—or to
the opera,
Or stand a long while looking at the movements
of machinery,
Or behold children at their sports,
Or the admirable sight of the perfect old man, or
the perfect old woman,
Or the sick in hospitals, or the dead carried to
Or my own eyes and figure in the glass,
These, with the rest, one and all, are to me
The whole referring—yet each distinct and in its

To me, every hour of the light and dark is a
Every inch of space is a miracle,
Every square yard of the surface of the earth is
spread with the same,
Every cubic foot of the interior swarms with the
Every spear of grass—the frames, limbs, organs,
of men and women, and all that concerns
All these to me are unspeakably perfect miracles.

To me the sea is a continual miracle,
The fishes that swim—the rocks—the motion
of the waves—the ships, with men in them
—what stranger miracles are there?

Vismaad - By Guru Nanak

Vismaad naad vismaad ved. Vismaad je-a vismaad bhed.
Vismaad roop vismaad rang. Vismaad nagnae phireh jant.
Vismaad pa-un vismaad paanee. Vismaad agneekhaydeh vidaanee.
Vismaad dhartee vismaad khaanee. Vismaad saad lageh paraanee.
Vismaad sanjog vismaad vijog. Vismaad bhukh vismaad bhog.
Vismaad sifat vismaad saalaah. Vismaad ujharh vismaad raah.
Vismaad nayrhai vismaad door(h). Vismaad daykhai haajraa hajoor.
Vaiykh vidaan rahi-aa vismaad. Nanak bujhan pooraibhaag. ||1||”
(SGGS, Pg. No. 463)

Translation of Guru Nanak's Vismaad

I am in awe as I observe the wind blowing and water flowing in different places. The fire's display of astonishing plays is truly amazing. Looking at how creatures are sustained by the earth through various means of birth such as eggs, wombs, and perspiration leaves me wonderfully astonished. It is amazing to see how mortals enjoy Your bounties, and the experience of people being united or separated is equally astonishing.

Oh God, it's difficult to believe that hunger grips some places while others voraciously enjoy plenty. There are places where the Creator is praised and eulogized. It is just as wonderful to stray away from divine commands as it is to walk on well-laid paths. Witnessing this wondrous play of Yours is astonishing.

It is amazing that some believe You are near, others believe You are far away, while others see You right beside them, pervading everything. Beholding these wonders, I am wonderstruck. Oh Nanak, those who comprehend these astounding wonders of Yours are blessed with perfect destiny.

Paraphrasing in a poem:

I am awestruck by the wonder of it all,
The wind blows here and there, the water flows,
Fire dances in its own dazzling play,
And the earth sustains life from myriad sources.

From eggs, from wombs, from sweat and soil,
The creatures of this earth come forth to live,
And mortal beings revel in the bounty,
That You, O' God, have so generously given.

To see people united or torn apart,
Is a wonder beyond comprehension,
And in some lands, hunger grips the heart,
While others feast in reckless abandon.

Some sing Your praises with unbridled joy,
While others stray from Your divine command,
But in all these paths, You are the one,
Whose wondrous play we witness, ever at hand.

For some, You are near, for others far,
But all around us, You pervade and bless,
And those who grasp these wonders true,
Are blessed with destiny's perfect caress.

O' Nanak, I stand in wonder before You,
And Your astounding miracles of life and love,
For in Your infinite and wondrous grace,
I find the strength to journey on above.