Behold! Pilgrims come at night
To board the ferry boat,
What's it that roars like thunder bolt?
Or is it the trumpet of universal doom?
And the storms and tempests deepen in the horizon!

See in the sea of sin dance high waves!
The terrible Night of death awful naked!
The demon swallows the universe outright
In fear tremble the helpless sinners of the boat.

Enveloped in darkness pitch dark 'Qiyamat' night,
Hopeless to cross the sea are drowned the passengers,
With sudden violence the rolling clouds roar,
And terrible lightnings appear,
And the Night trembes with trumpet sound!

Across such tempestuous sea
In cataclysmic dance,
Whose boat is it that fearlessly
plugs the waves-
In defiance of the thundering noise of the sea,
And the threatening trumpet sound of Doom.

Lo! Innocent are these pilgrims
Of the path of virtue.
Pure is their heart, well-protected
With the armor of truth
They are not frightened
Even by the fall of a thunderbolt;
Ahmad (Peace be upon him) is the Boatman,
And the Boat is replete with all requirements.
Abu Bakr, Usman, Umar, Ali Haider,
Are the crew of this Boat.
So, the passengers need not fear!
The Boatman and his companions
Are all expert hands,
And 'Allah has no partner'
Is the burden of their songs!

On the admiral-staff is unfurled
The sail of salvation,
From Paradise strew heaps
of flowers the flowery Huries.
O pilgrims for the other shore!
Sing loudly your 'Sari'- songs
With your heads down with humility,
And eyes full of a soft and serene expression
Of love and benignity.
Vain and futile are the threats
Of the sea-in-anger,
And howling tempests,
Behold the Pilgrims of Truth
Are safe on the other shore!