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The soil of this country is sandalwood. Every village is a land of penance. Every child is a statue of the nation. Every child is a child of Rām. Every child is a child of Rām. This body is a temple, every person is benevolent and pure. Where the lion roars and flowers bloom, where the mother is beloved, where the dawn sounds the conch shell and the evening sings a lullaby, every girl is an image of the Goddess, every child is Rām, every child is Rām. Where its soldiers sing the Gītā on the battlefield, where Sītā plays gently in the fields, where the ideal of life is the flow of Parameśvara—every girl is an image, every child is Rām. Every child is Rām. Where devotion and labor change destinies for good, it is a saga of sacrifice and penance sung by the poet's voice. Where knowledge is a flowing Gaṅgā, pure and beautiful, every boy is an image, every child is Rām, every child is Rām. Sandalwood is this country's soil, every village is a land of penance. Every child is an image, every child is Rām, every child is Rām. Victory to the teachings of the great Guru. O mind, bloom, bloom again in the world. How can the mind not endure? Bloom, bloom again in the world. What is this separation, my brother? This is the flight of our spirit, my hero. O mind, bloom, bloom again in the world. How can you not endure? O mind, bloom, bloom again in the world. Brother, take up the wing, brother, aim the arrow. Remove the sorrow, let the swan play. O mind, bloom, bloom again in the world. How can you not endure? O mind, bloom, bloom again in the world.