Here, we pitch our tent,
We have so far trekked three fourths
Of this high, rugged mountain,
We could no longer bear the backpains
And aching feet, and it is getting dark,
Cool mountain breeze is slowly creeping
Unfamiliar to our skin,
Hear the lonely rustle of the thick branches
Of the rainforest and the howling of the beasts,
Firewoods shall we gather for the bonfire,
Yes, with God's help, we will survive
The coldness of this treacherous jungle,
We will reach the peak tomorrow,
Ah, the joy of triumph and the hymn of the champions.
What is life without achievements, blessed are we,
Our footprints are always imbedded
In the muddy and thorny road of success.
Those next in line shall follow our footsteps.
We will guide them and wait for their arrival.
We will stoop to grasp their tired hands,
Clasp to reach the peak, welcome,
Our flag is unfurled, our torch is set ablaze.
On top of this high, rugged mountain.
We will sing the hymn of triumph
The world will see the sparkle
Of our divine mission,
The reason for our journey and for our survival.
The truth of our salvation and the source of our strength
The gem of being the chosen and part of the blessed fold.
The world will see the sparkle
Of our accomplished dream.
