The birds in the beautiful trees fly around in all four directions. The more they fly around, the more they suffer; they burn and cry out in pain.

No one else can save you - don't look for anyone else. I have searched in all four directions; I have come to find His Sanctuary. O Nanak, the True King has pulled me out and saved me from drowning!

Distracted by all sorts of distractions, it wanders around aimlessly in the ten directions.

Those birds which peck at the shore of the pool have played and have departed. In a moment, in an instant, we too must depart.

The Temple of the Lord is beautiful; it was made by the Creator Lord.

He is called the Most Perfect of the Perfect. He sits upon His Perfect Throne. He looks so Beautiful in His Perfect Place. He fulfills the hopes of the hopeless. O Nanak, if one obtains the Perfect Lord, how can his virtues decrease?