Sach keh doon ae Brahman! gar tu bura na maane

O Brahmin, if you will not take offense, Your ancient idols have lost reverence.

From them you learned to hold your kin in scorn; From God, the Preacher learned how war is born.

Fed up at last, I left both mosque and shrine, The Preacher’s words, and those old tales of thine.

You think your God is in a form of stone; To me, my homeland's every speck is divine.

Come, let us lift the veils of otherness anew, And wipe away the lines that make us two.

The city of the heart lies desolate, Come, in this land a new shrine let's create.

Our pilgrimage must be the world's most high, Its pinnacle should touch the very sky.

Let's rise each dawn to sing the sweetest prayer, And serve the wine of love for all to share.

In faithful songs, both strength and peace reside; For all this earth, salvation is love's guide.