O Nanak, none can find the limits of the Creator. ||1||
Many millions become self-centered.
Many millions are blinded by ignorance.
Many millions are stone-hearted misers.
Many millions are heartless, with dry, withered souls.
Many millions steal the wealth of others.
Many millions slander others.
Many millions struggle in Maya.
Many millions wander in foreign lands.
Whatever God attaches them to - with that they are engaged.
O Nanak, the Creator alone knows the workings of His creation. ||2||
Many millions are Siddhas, celibates and Yogis.
Many millions are kings, enjoying worldly pleasures.
Many millions of birds and snakes have been created.
Many millions of stones and trees have been produced.
Many millions are the winds, waters and fires.
Many millions are the countries and realms of the world.
Many millions are the moons, suns and stars.
Many millions are the demi-gods, demons and Indras, under their regal canopies.
He has strung the entire creation upon His thread.