How rich is Thy world of nature,
O Lord and Master!
How glorious its changing colours.
All who have eyes to see Are drunk on beholding it.
The partridge sings out in wonder,
The cuckoo warbles Thy name,
And the cry of the peacock repeats Thy message.
The gilding of dawn and sunset
Is the work of Thy hand And not of another.
The clouds are dancing on the winds
And flashing their anklets.
The frogs are leaping
And the peacock making its pirouette.
Some of the birds sing pee-pee,
Some coo-coo, some too-too,
And all to Thy glory.
The pigeons are cooing in chorus
With all the feathered throng.
The woods assume their mantle of green,
Inwrought with flowers, fruits and blossoming hedges.
The lightning dances, the cloud roars
And beats the drum of “All is Allah”.
The foliage is waving under dark clouds,
And the thundercloud deepens with its shadow
The colour of the earth.
Everywhere from heaven to hell
Is drenched in the glory.
Whose are these colours but Thine?
Swami Rama Titrha