Japji Sahib

One Universal Creator God, the True Name, the Creator Being, without fear, without enmity, the Timeless Form, unborn, self-existent, known by the Guru’s grace. Meditate on this: True in the beginning, true throughout the ages, true even now, O Nanak, and shall ever be true.

By ritual cleansing, the mind is not purified, even if one washes hundreds of thousands of times.

By silence, inner stillness is not attained, even if one remains absorbed in deep contemplation.

The soul’s hunger is not satisfied by gathering loads of worldly goods. Hundreds of thousands of clever tricks will not accompany one at the end.

How can one become truthful? How can the wall of falsehood be broken?

By walking in harmony with the Divine Will, O Nanak, as it is written within.

By the Divine Command, forms are created; the Command cannot be described.

By the Command, souls come into being; by the Command, greatness is obtained.

By the Command, some are high and some low; by the Command, pain and pleasure are recorded.

Some are blessed by the Command; others wander forever in cycles.

Everyone is within the Command; none is outside it.

O Nanak, one who understands the Command does not speak of ego.

One sings of His power, having power; another sings of His gifts, knowing His signs.

One sings of His virtues and greatness; another sings of divine knowledge, profound reflection.

One sings that He forms the body and reduces it to dust; another sings that He takes life and restores it.

One sings that He is far, yet seen; another sings that He is ever-present, directly before.

The telling of Him never ends; countless millions have told and continue to tell.

The Giver gives, and receivers grow weary; throughout the ages, they consume and consume.

By His Command, He directs the path. O Nanak, He is blissful and carefree.

True is the Master, true is His Name. Speak with infinite love.

They ask, they beg, “Give, give,” and the Giver bestows.

What can we offer before Him, by which we may behold His court? What words can we speak, hearing which He may love us?

In the ambrosial hours, contemplate the True Name and His greatness.

By His grace, we receive the robe of honor; by His glance, we attain the door of liberation.

O Nanak, know this: He alone is the True One.

He cannot be established, nor can He be made. He Himself is the Immaculate One.

One who serves Him obtains honor. O Nanak, sing of the Treasure of Virtue.

Sing and listen, and with love enshrine Him in the mind. Then sorrow departs and peace comes to the home.

Through the Guru, the divine sound and the Vedas are known; through the Guru, the One is realized as pervading all.

The Guru is Shiva, the Guru is Gorakh, the Guru is Brahma, the Guru is Parvati, the Mother.

If I knew, I could not tell; such is the ineffable nature.

The Guru gives one understanding: The One Giver of all souls, may I never forget Him.

If He is pleased, pilgrimage to holy places is worthwhile; without His pleasure, what is the use of bathing? I see all the creation He fashioned; without His grace, nothing is obtained. Within the mind are jewels, gems, and rubies, if one hears the Guru’s teaching. The Guru gives one understanding: The One Giver of all souls, may I never forget Him.

If one could live for four ages, or even ten times that, and be known throughout the nine continents, and everyone follow him, and if he had a good name and fame in the world, yet if the Lord’s glance of grace does not fall upon him, nobody would care for him.

Among worms, he would be considered a worm, and the sinful would hold him sinful.

O Nanak, the Lord bestows virtue on the virtuous, and grants virtue to the virtuous. But I know of none who can bestow virtue upon Him.

By listening, one attains the Siddhas, the spiritual teachers, the heroes, and the Yogis.

By listening, one understands the earth, the supporting bull, and the sky.

By listening, one knows the continents, the worlds, and the nether regions.

By listening, death cannot touch one.

O Nanak, the devotees are ever in bliss. By listening, sorrow and sin are destroyed.

By listening, one knows Shiva, Brahma, and Indra.

By listening, even the wicked speak praise.

By listening, one knows the path of Yoga and the secrets of the body.

By listening, one knows the Shastras, the Simritis, and the Vedas.

O Nanak, the devotees are ever in bliss. By listening, sorrow and sin are destroyed.

By listening, one attains truth, contentment, and divine knowledge.

By listening, one gains the merit of bathing at the sixty-eight holy places.

By listening, reading and reciting, one obtains honor.

By listening, one effortlessly attains deep meditation.

O Nanak, the devotees are ever in bliss. By listening, sorrow and sin are destroyed.

By listening, one dives deep into the ocean of virtue.

By listening, one knows the spiritual teachers, the saints, and the emperors.

By listening, even the blind find the path.

By listening, the unfathomable becomes within reach.

O Nanak, the devotees are ever in bliss. By listening, sorrow and sin are destroyed.

The state of the one who has faith cannot be described.

If anyone attempts to describe it, they will later regret it.

Neither paper, nor pen, nor the writer can capture it.

Only the one who has faith can contemplate it.

Such is the immaculate Name. One who, with faith, realizes it in the mind, truly knows.

By faith, the mind attains wisdom and understanding. By faith, one knows the essence of all realms. By faith, one does not suffer the blows of death. By faith, one does not go with the Messenger of Death. Such is the immaculate Name. One who, with faith, realizes it in the mind, truly knows.

By faith, one finds no obstacle on the path. By faith, one departs with honor and glory. By faith, one does not follow the path of evil. By faith, one becomes united with righteousness. Such is the immaculate Name. One who, with faith, realizes it in the mind, truly knows.

By faith, one attains the door of liberation. By faith, one saves one’s family and lineage. By faith, the Guru and the disciple cross over the world-ocean. By faith, O Nanak, they do not wander begging. Such is the immaculate Name. One who, with faith, realizes it in the mind, truly knows.

The five are accepted, the five are the leaders. The five obtain honor in the court of the Lord. The five are beautiful at the King’s gate. The five are focused on the one Guru.

If one reflects and contemplates, the Creator’s works are beyond count.

The divine bull of righteousness is the son of compassion; contentment is the thread that holds it all. If one understands this, one becomes true.

What a load that bull carries! And beneath it, another earth, and another, and another. What power supports that weight?

The beings, their species, colors, and names—all are recorded by the pen of the Creator. Who can know this account? How vast is the recording!

How great is His power, His beauty, His gifts? Who can fathom their measure?

He spread His creation with one word, and from it arose countless rivers.

What is Your power? I cannot even begin to describe it. I am a sacrifice to You even once. Whatever pleases You is the good deed. You are ever safe, O Formless One.

Countless are the chants, countless the loves.

Countless are the worships, countless the penances and austerities.

Countless are the scriptures, the recitation of the Vedas.

Countless are the yogis, with minds detached.

Countless are the devotees, contemplating virtue and knowledge.

Countless are the truthful, countless the givers.

Countless are the heroes, with faces bearing the brunt of battle.

Countless are the silent sages, absorbed in love for the One.

What is Your power? I cannot even begin to describe it. I am a sacrifice to You even once. Whatever pleases You is the good deed. You are ever safe, O Formless One.

Countless are the fools, blind in darkness.

Countless are the thieves and those who consume what is forbidden.

Countless are the tyrants who rule by force.

Countless are the cutthroats who commit murder.

Countless are the sinners who continue sinning.

Countless are the liars, wandering in falsehood.

Countless are the unclean, consuming filth.

Countless are the slanderers, carrying heavy burdens.

Nanak, the lowly, speaks this reflection. I am a sacrifice to You even once. Whatever pleases You is the good deed. You are ever safe, O Formless One.

Countless are Your names, countless Your places. Inaccessible, innumerable are Your realms.

Countless speak of You, but it only adds to the burden.

By the Word, Your Name is praised; by the Word, knowledge and songs of virtue are sung.

By the Word, we write and speak and express. By the Word, destiny is recorded.

But the One who wrote these words has no destiny above Him. As He commands, so we receive.

As much as He created, so is His Name. Without the Name, there is no place.

What is Your power? I cannot even begin to describe it. I am a sacrifice to You even once. Whatever pleases You is the good deed. You are ever safe, O Formless One.

When the hands, feet, and body become soiled, they are cleansed by washing with water.

When clothes become stained with urine, they are cleaned with soap.

But when the mind is defiled by sin, it is cleansed by the love of the Name.

Virtue and vice are not mere labels; the actions we perform are recorded and we must bear the consequences.

We ourselves plant and we ourselves eat.

O Nanak, by the Divine Command, we come and go.

Pilgrimage, penance, compassion, charity—if one obtains even a fraction of their merit, it is good. But greater is hearing, accepting, and loving the Lord in the mind.

The true pilgrimage is the inner cleansing of the heart.

All virtues are Yours, I have none. Without virtue, there is no devotion.

Salutations to the Lord, the primal Word, the Vedas. Truth is beautiful, and the mind is ever joyful.

What was that time, that moment, that day, that date, that season, that month when the creation took form?

The Pandits could not find that time, even from the Puranas. The Qazis could not find it, even from the Quran. The Yogis know not the day, date, season, or month.

The Creator alone knows, for He fashioned the universe. How can I speak, praise, describe, or know Him?

O Nanak, everyone speaks of Him, each wiser than the other.

Great is the Master, great is His Name; what happens is by His will. Nanak, if one claims to know Him, he is not honored hereafter.

There are countless nether worlds below, and countless skies above. The Vedas are exhausted searching for the limits. The scriptures say there are eighteen thousand worlds, but the essence is One. If there were a limit, it could be written; but with a limit, there would be decay. Nanak, He is called great; He alone knows Himself.

One praises and praises, but cannot attain the full understanding. Rivers and streams flow into the ocean, but the ocean does not know its own depth. The ocean, the king, the emperor, the wealthy with their treasures—they are not equal to an ant if they forget the Lord in their mind.

There is no end to Your praise, no end to Your speech.

There is no end to Your actions, no end to Your giving.

There is no end to Your seeing, no end to Your hearing.

There is no end to Your mystery, what is the mind’s mantra?

There is no end to Your creation. There is no end to Your near and far.

Many have struggled to find Your limits, but they cannot. No one knows Your limit. The more we speak, the more remains.

Great is the Master, high is His abode. Higher than the highest is His Name.

How great must one be to know the highest? He alone knows Himself. As great as He is, He alone knows.

Nanak, by His grace, the gift is bestowed.

His great bounty cannot be written. The Great Giver has no greed.

Countless warriors beg, countless cannot be counted.

Many waste away and perish. Many take and then deny. Many fools simply consume and consume. Many suffer hunger and pain.

These too are Your gifts, O Giver. Liberation from bondage comes by Your will; no one else can say anything.

If someone foolishly boasts, they only know what they themselves have eaten.

He alone knows and He alone gives. Few, very few, speak of Him.

Those whom He blesses sing His praise. Nanak, that king is the King of kings.

Priceless are His virtues, priceless is His trade. Priceless are the traders, priceless the treasures.

Priceless are those who come, priceless those who take away. Priceless is love, priceless are those absorbed in it.

Priceless is righteousness, priceless is the court. Priceless are the scales, priceless the approvals.

Priceless is the blessing, priceless the insignia. Priceless is His grace, priceless His command.

He is beyond priceless, beyond description. Those who speak of Him remain absorbed in love.

The Vedas, the Puranas, the scriptures speak. The learned recite and explain.

Brahma speaks, Indra speaks. The Gopis and Govind speak. Shiva speaks, the Siddhas speak. The many Buddhas speak.

Demons and gods speak. The celestial beings, humans, silent sages, and servants speak.

Many speak and continue to speak. Many, after speaking, rise and depart.

If You created so many, and would create more, even they cannot fully speak of You.

As great as You are, so great is Your praise. Nanak knows that the True One is.

If anyone speaks arrogantly, they are written off as a fool among fools.

What is that door, what is that home, where You sit and care for all?

The countless sounds of music play, and many are the musicians. Many are the ragas and their melodies, many are the singers.

The wind, water, and fire sing to You; the righteous judge at Your door sings.

The recording angels, Chit and Gupta, who write and judge, sing.

Shiva, Brahma, and the goddess Devi, ever beautiful, sing.

Indra, seated on his throne, sings with the deities at Your door.

The Siddhas, in deep meditation, sing; the holy men contemplate.

The celibates, the truthful, the contented, and the mighty warriors sing.

The Pandits recite the Vedas throughout the ages.

The enchanting beauties who captivate the mind in heaven, earth, and the underworld sing.

The jewels created by You, and the sixty-eight holy places, sing.

The mighty warriors and heroes, the four sources of life, sing.

The continents, worlds, and universes, made and sustained by You, sing.

Those who please You sing, Your devotees steeped in love. Many others sing who do not come to my mind. Nanak, what can he contemplate?

He is the same, the eternal True Master, True is His Name. He is, and shall be, He does not depart.

He created this creation. He created the colorful Maya of many kinds. He creates and beholds His own creation.

Whatever pleases Him, He does; no one can command Him. He is the King, the King of kings.

Nanak, to abide in His will is true.

Make contentment your earrings, humility your begging bowl, and meditation the ashes you apply. Let the awareness of death be your patched coat, and the body your virgin spinning wheel. Let the practice of faith be your staff. Conquer your mind, and you conquer the world. I bow to Him, I bow. He is the Primal One, Pure, Without Beginning, Unstruck; through all ages, His form is one.

Let spiritual knowledge be your food, compassion your storehouse, and the divine sound vibrate in every heart. He is the Master, and all are subject to Him. The supernatural powers and pleasures are for others. Union and separation are the two forces at play; by destiny, we receive our lot. I bow to Him, I bow. He is the Primal One, Pure, Without Beginning, Unstruck; through all ages, His form is one.

The One Primal Mother gave birth to the three modes, and the creation was approved.

One is the world-engrosser, one is the storekeeper, one is the judge.

As He wills, He directs; as He commands, so it happens.

He sees all, but none see Him. This is a great wonder.

I bow to Him, I bow. He is the Primal One, Pure, Without Beginning, Unstruck; through all ages, His form is one.

His throne and storehouses are in every realm. Whatever is placed, is once and for all. The Creator creates and watches over. Nanak, the work of the True One is true. I bow to Him, I bow. He is the Primal One, Pure, Without Beginning, Unstruck; through all ages, His form is one.

If I had hundreds of thousands of tongues, and even hundreds of thousands more, I would sing the Name of the Lord of the Universe over and over. On this path of devotion, we climb the ladder of honor, becoming one with Him. Hearing the celestial talks, even the worms are inspired to emulate. Nanak, by His grace, it is obtained; the false are merely puffed up with false pride.

There is no power to speak, no power to remain silent.

There is no power to beg, no power to give.

There is no power to live, no power to die.

There is no power to rule, to amass wealth, or to disturb the mind.

There is no power to attain wisdom or divine knowledge.

There is no power to find a way to escape the world.

He alone has power, and He alone watches over. Nanak, there is no high or low before Him.

Nights, seasons, dates, days, wind, water, fire, and the nether worlds—within all these, He established the earth as a place of righteousness.

In it are beings with various dispositions and colors. Their names are countless and infinite.

By their actions, they are judged. True is the Lord, true is His court.

There, the accepted ones are beautiful. By His grace, the insignia is obtained.

There, the ripe and the raw are assessed. Nanak, one goes there knowing it.

This is the nature of the realm of righteousness. Now, describe the realm of knowledge.

Countless are the winds, waters, and fires; countless are the Krishnas and Shivas.

Countless are the Brahmas who fashion forms, colors, and attire.

Countless are the lands of action, the Meru mountains, and countless are the teachings of the Dhruvas.

Countless are the Indras, moons, suns, countless the regions and countries.

Countless are the Siddhas, the Buddhas, the Nathas, countless the goddesses in various forms.

Countless are the gods, demons, sages, countless the jewels of the ocean.

Countless are the sources of life, countless the languages, countless the kings.

Countless are the spiritual disciplines, countless the devotees. Nanak, there is no end, no end.

In the realm of knowledge, knowledge shines brilliantly.

There, the divine sound and joy resound in countless ways.

In the realm of effort, the speech is beautiful.

There, the design is crafted with great wonder.

These things cannot be described; if one tries, they will regret it.

There, the mind, intellect, and wisdom are shaped.

There, the awareness of the gods and sages is refined.

In the realm of grace, the speech is power. There, there is no other but the One.

There are mighty warriors and heroes, filled with the Lord. There, they are immersed in the glory of the Lord.

Their forms cannot be described. They do not die, nor are they deceived.

The Lord dwells in their minds. There, the devotees of many realms dwell. They rejoice in the True Lord.

In the realm of Truth, the Formless One dwells. He creates and watches, beholding with grace.

There are regions, worlds, and universes. If one tries to describe them, there is no end.

There are realms upon realms, forms upon forms. As is His command, so is the work.

He sees, rejoices, and reflects. Nanak, to describe this is extremely difficult.

Make self-discipline the furnace, patience the goldsmith.

Let the mind be the anvil, and divine knowledge the tools.

Let the fear of God be the bellows, and the fire of austerity be the heat.

In the crucible of love, pour the ambrosial Nectar. In the true mint, forge the Word.

Those blessed with His grace receive this work. Nanak, by His grace, they are blessed.

Air is the Guru, Water is the Father, Earth is the Great Mother.

Day and night are the two nurses, in whose lap the whole world plays.

Good and bad deeds are judged in the presence of the Righteous Judge.

By their own actions, some are near, some far.

Those who meditated on the Name, having toiled, have departed. Nanak, their faces are radiant, and many others are saved along with them.