Oh, my shelter! ’twas the hour of evening prayer when thou settest sail;
The oars are straining and the boat reels along.
God’s mercy is great, His promise sure;
By His blessing we shall meet in the Garden of Paradise.
Oh, my shelter! the breeze is blowing in fitful gusts;
Be careful not to pull the sail to the left.
In three months and ten days,
Thou wilt return, my brother!
Oh, my shelter! make for the island, Sri Rama;
For there are two marabouts and a fish-weir.