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O Mhic Na Bithe! Dean iomradh orm air thalaimh ach an cuimhnich mi ort 'na mo nèamh: mar sin ni Mo shùilean agus do shùilean-sa co-ghàirdeachas. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Trácht orm ar mo thalamh chun go gcuimhneoidh mé ort ar mo neamh; is amhlaidh a thabharfar sólás do do shúile agus do mo shúilese. |
O Son of Being! Make mention of Me on My earth, that in My heaven I may remember thee, thus shall Mine eyes and thine be solaced.
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O Mhic Na Righ-Chathrach! Is e do chlaisneachd-sa Mo chlaisneachd - èisd leatha. Is e Mo shealladh do shealladh-sa - faic leis, ach an toir thu fianuis 'nad anam air Mo naomhachd roàrdaichte agus gun toir Mise, annam fhèin, fianuis air inbhe ro-àrdaichte dhuitsa. |
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A Mhic Na Ríchathaoireach! Is í d’éisteacht m’éisteachtsa cluin tusa léi! Is é do radharc mo radharcsa, féach tusa leis, chun go dtabharfaidh tú fianaise i d’anam istigh i dtaobh mo naofachta ardaithe agus go dtabharfaidh mise fianaise istigh ionam féin i dtaobh céimíocht ardaithe faoi do choinnese. |
O Son of the Throne! Thy hearing is My hearing, hear thou therewith. Thy sight is My sight, do thou see therewith, that in thine inmost soul thou mayest testify unto My exalted sanctity, and I within Myself may bear witness unto an exalted station for thee.
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O Mhic Na Bithe! Sir bàs martaireach 'na mo shlighe-sa, sona 'na mo shòlas agus taingeil airson na dh'òrduicheas mi ach an gabh thu tàmh learn fo bhrat mo rìgheachd air chùl pàilluin na glòire. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Iarr bás an mhairtírigh i mo chasán, sásta le mo thoil agus buíoch as a bhfuil agam le go luífidh tú liom faoi cheann bhrat na maorgachta ar chúl thaibearnacal na glóire. |
O Son of Being! Seek a martyr's death in My path, content with My pleasure and thankful for that which I ordain, that thou mayest repose with Me beneath the canopy of majesty behind the tabernacle of glory.
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O Mhic An Duine! Smaoinich agus cnuasaich. An e do thoil gum faigheadh tu bàs air do leabaidh na gum frasadh tu t'fhuil air an dust mhartaireach 'na M'aobhar agus, mar sin, gum biodh tu 'nad fhoiliseachadh air M'òrdugh agus 'na do thaisbeanadh air Mo sholus anns a' phàrras as àirde. Thoir brath ceart, a sheirbhisich! |
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A Mhic An Duine! Meabhraigh agus déan machnamh! An é is mian leat bás a fháil ar do leaba ná fuil do bheatha a dhoirteadh ar an luaith mar mhairtíreach i mo Chosán ag déanamh díot féin, dá bharr, taispeánadh ar m’aithne agus foilsitheoir mo thola sa pharthas is airde? Tabhair breith air mar is ceart, a sheirbhíseach! |
O Son of Man! Ponder and reflect. Is it thy wish to die upon thy bed, or to shed thy life-blood on the dust, a martyr in My path, and so become the manifestation of My command and the revealer of My light in the highest paradise? Judge thou aright, O servant!
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O Mhic An Duine! Air M'òirdhearcas; tha gun smàl thu fait do chinn le t'fhuil nas motha 'na mo shealladhsa na cruthachadh an domhain agus soilise an dà shaoghail. Strì mar sin a thighinn a dh'ionnsaigh na h-ìre seo. |
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A Mhic An Duine!
Dar m’ailleacht! Is mó liom dath na fola ar do ghruaig ná cruthú na cruinne go léir agus ná solas an dá shaol. Déan iarracht a leithéid a chur i gcrích, a sheirbhíseach! |
O Son of Man! By My beauty! To tinge thy hair with thy blood is greater in My sight than the creation of the universe and the light of both worlds. Strive then to attain this, O servant!
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O Mhic An Duine! Tha comharradh ann airson gach nì. 'Se comharradh gràidh cruadaias fo m'àithntean agus foghaidean fo mo dheuchainnean. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Tá comhartha ann do gach aon ní. Is é comhartha an ghrá buanseasmhacht in aghaidh mo reachta agus foighne le mo ghearrtha. |
O Son of Man! For everything there is a sign. The sign of love is fortitude under My decree and patience under My trials.
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O Mhic An Duine! Tha an fhìor fhear-gràidh a' sireadh àmhghair eadhon mar a tha an ceannairceach ag iarraidh maitheanais agus am peacach tròcair. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Bíonn an fíorfhear grá ag tnúth le dólás mar a bhíonn an ceannairceach ag tnúth le maithiúnas agus an peacach le trócaire. |
O Son of man! The true lover yearneth for tribulation even as doth the rebel for forgiveness and the sinful for mercy.
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O Mhic An Duine! Mur a bi doilgheas agad 'na Mo shlighe-sa, ciamar a choisicheas tu anns na slighean acasan a tha sona 'na Mo thlachd? Mur a coinnich thu cruaidh-chasan 'na t-iarrtus coinneachadh Rium, ciamar a gheibh thu solus 'na do ghràdh air m'òirdhearcas. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Mura n-éiríonn anachain duit i mo chosán conas a fhéadann tú siúl i slite an dreama úd atá sásta le mo thoil? Mura gcuirtear féachaint ort agus tú ag dúil le casadh liom conas a bhainfidh tú amach an solas ar mhéid do ghrá ar m’áilleacht. |
O Son of Man! If adversity befall thee not in My path, how canst thou walk in the ways of them that are content with My pleasure? If trials afflict thee not in thy longing to meet Me, how wilt thou attain the light in thy love for My beauty?
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O Mhic An Duine! 'Se mo dhoilgheas mo fhreasdal: bho'n taobh a muigh chan eil ann ach teine agus dìoghaltas, ach a staigh 'se th'ann solus agus tròcair. Dean cabhag gu bhith 'nad sholus sìorruidh agus 'nad spiorad bith-bhuan. Is e seo M' òrdugh dhuit, sèall ris! |
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A Mhic An Duine! Is é mo thubaiste m’oirchill. Ar an taobh amuigh tine agus díoltas atá ann ach ar an taobh istigh is solas agus trócaire é. Deifrigh chuige le go ndéanfar solas síoraí agus spiorad neamhbhásmhar díot. Is é seo m’aithne duit. Comhlíon tusa í! |
O Son of Man! My calamity is My providence, outwardly it is fire and vengeance, but inwardly it is light and mercy. Hasten thereunto that thou mayest become an eternal light and an immortal spirit. This is My command unto thee, do thou observe it.
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O Mhic An Duine! Ged thigeadh soirbheachadh ort na dean gàirdeachas; agus ged thigeadh ìsleachadh na dean caoid, oir theid iad le chéile thairis is cha bhi iad tuilleadh ann. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Má bhaineann an séan duit, ná bíodh áthas ort, agus má thagann an uirísliocht ort, ná déan dobrón, óir rachaidh siad thart araon agus ní bheidh siad ann feasta go deo. |
O Son of Man! Should prosperity befall thee, rejoice not, and should abasement come upon thee, grieve not, for both shall pass away and be no more.
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O Mhic Na Bithe! Ged thigeadh bochdainn ort na bi dóruinneach, oir, na thìde, tadhailidh tighearna a' bheartais ort. Na biodh eagal ìsleachaidh ort oir laighidh glòir ort fhathast. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Má thagann bochtanas ort ná bíodh brón ort, óir tiocfaidh Tiarna an tsaibhris ar cuairt ort himeacht aimsire. Ná bíodh eagla ort roimh an uirísleacht, óir suífidh an ghlóir ort lá éigin feasta. |
O Son of Being! If poverty overtake thee, be not sad; for in time the Lord of wealth shall visit thee. Fear not abasement, for glory shall one day rest on thee.
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O Mhic An Duine! Ma tha do chridhe an tòir air an rìoghachd shìorruidh, neo-sheargte, agus air a' bheatha cian, bith-bhuan seo, trèig an t-uachdranas geàrr agus bàsmhor seo. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Má tá dúil do chroí agat sa tiarnas síoraí, bithbheo agus sa bheatha sheanda, shuthain seo tréig an flaitheas básmhar neamhbhuan seo. |
O Son of Being! If thine heart be set upon this eternal, imperishable dominion, and this ancient, everlasting life, forsake this mortal and fleeting sovereignty.
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O Mhic An Duine! Na toir thu fhèin do chùisean an t-saoghail seo oir le teine dearbhar an t-òr agus le òr dearbhaidh sinn ar seirbhisich. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Ná bí ag gabháil den saol seo, mar is le tine a fhéachaimid an t-ór agus is le hór a fhéachaimid ár seirbhísigh. |
O Son of Being! Busy not thyself with this world, for with fire We test the gold, and with gold We test Our servants.
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O Mhic An Duine! Tha thusa sireadh an oir agus tha mise ri do shaoradh bhuaithe. Tha thusa 'gad fhaicinn fhèin saoibhir 'na sheiibh ach tha mise faicinn do shaoibhreas 'nad naomhachd as aonais. Air m'onair is e seo M'eò1as agus is e sin do bheachdsa: ciamar a cho-chòrdas Mo shlighe agus do shlighe-sa? |
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A Mhic An Duine! Iarrann tú an t-ór agus iarraimse tú a bheith fuascailte uaidh. Síleann tú go bhfuil tú saibhir agus é i do sheilbh agat: aithnímse do shaibhreas ina éamais. Dar mo bheatha! is é seo m’eolas-sa agus is é sin do sheachmall; conas is féidir le do shlí-se réiteach le do shlí-se? |
O Son of Man! Thou dost wish for gold and I desire thy freedom from it. Thou thinkest thyself rich in its possession, and I recognize thy wealth in thy sanctity therefrom. By My life! This is My knowledge, and that is thy fancy; how can My way accord with thine?
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O Mhic An Duine! Roinn mo shaoibhreas a measq nam bochd ach an tarruing thu ann an nèamh a stòir lainnir nach crion agus a ionmhas glòir nach failnich. Ach, air m'fhocal nam faiceadh tu le Mo shoil-sa chitheadh tu gur e iòbart t'anam an nì as g1òirmhoire. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Bronn mo shaibhreas ar mo bhoicht chun go dtarraingeoidh tú as stórtha niamhrachta síorúra agus as ionmhais glóire dochaite. Ach dar mo bheatha! d’anam a thabhairt suas, tá sé sin níos glórmhaire, dá mba rud é go bhféadfá tusa a fheiscint le mo shúilse. |
O Son of Man! Bestow My wealth upon My poor, that in heaven thou mayest draw from stores of unfading splendor and treasures of imperishable glory. But by My life! To offer up thy soul is a more glorious thing couldst thou but see with Mine eye.
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O Mhic An Duine! 'Se teampull na beatha mo rìgh-chathair. Glan i o gach ni ach an daingnichear mi innte agus gu fan mi innte. |
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A Mhic An Duine!
Is é teampall na beatha mo ríchathaoirse; glan ón uile ní é le go mb’ann a shuífear mé agus le go mb’ann a chónoídh mé. |
O Son of Man! The temple of being is My throne; cleanse it of all things, that there I may be established and there I may abide.
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O Mhic Na Bithe! 'Se do chridhe M'aite-tàimh: naomhaich e mu choinneimh Mo thèarnaidh. 'Se do spiorad M'aitetaisbeanaich: glan e gu Mo shoiliseachadh. |
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A Mhic An Tsaoil! Is é do chroí m’áit chónaí; coisreac i gcóir mo thuirlingthe é. Is é do spiorad m’áit taispeánta, glan faoi choinne m’fhoilsithe é. |
O Son of Being! Thy heart is My home; sanctify it for My descent. Thy spirit is My place of revelation; cleanse it for My manifestation.
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O Mhic An Duine! Cuir do lamh 'na mo bhroilleach ach an éirich Mi os do chionn, boilisgeach agus lainnireach. |
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A Mhic An Duine! Cuir do lámh isteach i m’ucht le go n-éireoidh mé lonrach, dealraitheach os do chionn. |
O Son of Man! Put thy hand into My bosom, that I may rise above thee, radiant and resplendent.
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