How beautiful you are, O earth, and how beautiful you are.

How well you obey the light and how nobly you submit to the sun.

How beautiful you are clothed in shadow and how beautiful your face is masked by darkness.

How sweet are the songs of your dawn and how majestic are your evening songs.

How perfect you are, O earth, and how peaceful you are.

I have walked on your plains, climbed your mountains, descended into your valleys, climbed your rocks, and entered your caves. So I knew your dream on the plain, your pride on the mountain, your calmness in the valley, your determination in the rock, and your discretion in the cave, for you are the one who is flat with its strength, high with its humility, low with its height, soft with its hardness, and clear with its secrets and secrets.

I have ridden your seas, waded your rivers, and followed your streams, and I have heard eternity speaking with your tides and ebbs, the eons chanting between your hills and sorrows, and life calling to life in your people and slopes, for you are the tongue and lips of eternity, the strings and fingers of the eons, and the idea and statement of life.

Your spring awakened me and drove me to your forests where your breath rises with incense, your summer sat me in your fields where your toil becomes fruit, your fall stopped me in your vineyards where your blood flows with wine, and your winter led me to your bed where your purity is scattered with snow, for you are the fragrant with its spring, the rewarding with its summer, the overflowing with its fall, and the pure with its winter.

On the clear night, I opened the windows and doors of my soul, and I came out to you, burdened with my ambitions, shackled by the shackles of my selfishness, and I found you looking at the planets smiling at you, and I removed my shackles and weights, and I knew that the home of the soul is your space, its desires in your desires, its safety in your safety, and its happiness in the golden dust that the stars scatter on your body.

On the cloud-lined night, tired of my inattention and inactivity, I came out to you and found you a mighty one armed with the storm, fighting your past with your present, wrestling your old with your new, and scattering your small with your small, and I knew that the order of men is your order, and their law is your law. And that whoever does not beat with his winds what is dull of his branches dies of boredom, whoever does not tear with his revolutions what is worn out of his leaves dies of inactivity, and whoever does not shroud by forgetting what is dead of his past is a shroud for what is dead of the past.

How honourable you are, O earth, and how long your sighs are.

How tender you are to your children who are distracted from their reality to their illusions, lost between what they have reached and what they have fallen short of.

We grow up and you laugh.

We sin and you blaspheme.

We blaspheme and you bless.

We defile and you sanctify.

We sleep and do not dream and you dream in your eternal vigil.

We speak to your chest with swords and spears and you bathe our sores with oil and balm.

We plant your palms with bones and skulls, and you plant them with poplars and willows.

We entrust you with carrion and you fill our gardens with grapes and our presses with clusters.

We paint your faces with blood and you wash our faces with perfume.

We take your elements to make cannons and shells, and you take our elements to make roses and lilies.

How patient you are, O earth, and how much you turn.

What are you, earth, and who are you?

A speck of dust that rose from the power of God when He went from one end of the universe to the other, or a spark from the hearth of infinity?

A nucleus thrown into the etheric field to crack its shell with the determination of its core and ascend as a divine monument beyond the ether?

Are you a drop of blood in the veins of the Titan of Titans, or are you a drop of sweat on his forehead?

Are you a fruit; slowly waved by the sun? Are you a fruit in the tree of universal knowledge that stretches its veins deep into eternity and raises its branches to the depths of eternity? Or are you a jewel placed by the god of time in the handful of the goddess of distance?

Are you a child in the bosom of space, or an old woman who watches the days and nights and is satisfied with the wisdom of the days and nights?

What are you, earth, and who are you?

You are me, earth! You are my sight and insight, you are my sanity, imagination and dreams, you are my hunger and thirst, you are my pain and pleasure, you are my obliviousness and attention.

You are the beauty in my eyes, the longing in my heart, and the immortality in my soul.

You are me, earth, if I were not you, you would not be me.