To the Father of Modern Bhutan,
I warble out this chauvinist hymn;
For letting the nation out of the secluded realm of isolation,
For knitting out a myriad of diplomatic links,
Upon which our nation saunters among other giants
Independent steps despite the miniature it is;
And I salute the brevity and wit with which you handled the miniature.
To the Learned and Respected Teachers,
I appraise you with the words of tribute;
You, the iridescent rays that emanated the radiance
On the mundane path of my life,
And dispelled the obscurity caste by my ignorance.
You, the guiding principle,
The steering wheel that led me
Through my crucial moments to the ultimate destiny of triumph.
You, the vital clog in the wheel of motivation,
The reservoir of inspiration and motivation,
That propelled me to the flimsy firmament of fame and reputation.
You, the epitome of value, knowledge and skills,
The inheritance of which bestowed me with
The worth of person I am and the place where I am.
On this auspicious day; a day of retrospection,
I salute you the Father and the Demagogue of Bhutan,
The Third Hereditary Monarch, Jigme Dorji Wangchuck,
And all the Beloved Teachers treading his path,
And equipping the future citizens with
The requisite arms for successful and prosperous future.