With your hands carve out your own destiny.

O my heart! Love God as the chatrik loves the rain drops, Who even when fountains are full and the land green, Is not satisfied as long as it cannot get a drop of rain.

See the brotherhood of all mankind as the highest order of Yogis; conquer your own mind, and conquer the world.

With your hands carve out your own destiny.

I bow at His Feet constantly, and pray to Him, the Guru, the True Guru, has shown me the Way.

False is the body, false are the clothes; false is beauty.

I don't die... He who is merged with the omnipresent is never gone.