With Your Hands Carve Out Your Own

We Are Born Of Woman, We Are Conceived In The Womb Of Woman, We Are Engaged And Married To Woman. We Make Friendship With Woman And The Lineage Continued Because Of Woman. When One Woman Dies, We Take Another One, We Are Bound With The World Through Woman. Why Should We Talk Ill Of Her, Who Gives Birth To Kings? The Woman Is Born From Woman; There Is None Without Her. Only The One True Lord Is Without Woman

Let God's Grace Be The Mosque, And Devotion The Prayer Mat. Let The Quran Be The Good Conduct. Let Modesty Be Compassion, Good Manners Fasting, You Should Be A Muslim The Like Of This. Let Good Deeds Be Your Kaaba And Truth Be Your Mentor. Your Kalma Be Your Creed And Prayer, God Would Then Vindicate Your Honour.

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.

Like The Juggler, Deceiving By His Tricks, One Is Deluded By Egotism, Falsehood And Illusion.

Food Sacred To The Manes Or To The Gods Must Be Given To A Man Distinguished By Sacred Knowledge, For Hands, Smeared With Blood, Cannot Be Cleansed With Blood.