The words of a prayer are never lost.
How fair is my demand!
The scene is laid.
In prayer I am enlarged.

Greet me, O, hidden angels.
Greet me with permanent gifts:
Of my ignorance turning into wisdom.
Of my desires turning into contentment.
Of my restlessness turning into peace.

The words of a prayer are never lost.
How fair is my demand!
The scene is laid.
It is the month of Ramadan.

Geeta Chhabra