The Praise

I noticed the sky when I opened my eyes this morning,

What a surprise! What a creation!

And my vision does not want to return back.

The newborn sun slowly opens its eyes and roars at the door of dawn;

I looked up and began to sing softly at that point.

All my praises are only for You, O my creator!

You made us human with those beautiful hands of yours,

Every time I lose myself in thinking, I am unable to locate anything.

Where did these bunch of flowers come from and where did they go?

Who gave energy and life to the sun and the wind?

Who caused the river and sea to deposit the soil and accumulate weight?

All my praises are only for You, O my indweller!

Even when I am tired of contemplating these things, I continue to be in awe;

Who floated those white clouds in the sky, in the eternal blue?

Instead of the air, who maintains the life that is visible in the seawater?

Who made them create the world beyond by coloring the grain of the earth?

Where did people get this divine pride?

How does nature manage to bloom thousands of flowers in this light and darkness?

The image of God appears in letters when we stand in front of the mirror;

People then unlock the doors of their own heaven losing themselves in bliss.

The mountain of praise then covers the sore spot on the mountain on the face,

This nature seeks only brightness and praises out of the thorn of darkness and condemnation.

All my praises are only for You, O my creator!