It is raining at night, and not a star is shining on the horizon

Neither have I the ability to cross to the tent of Tagore, like lightning

Nor could you come to the garden of Iqbal like a waterfall

The road of men is dark and full of wounds

Full of roaring winds

So endure half the way, my friend!

And your road will lead to light, and fulfilled hopes.

And when you reach the gate of God

Beware not to knock without ablution;

Thence say in earnest prayer: I have come from the land of peace

So beckon me O Lord! To the House of Peace

For YOU are PEACE!