And made the day for livelihood?
And built above you seven strong ones?
And placed a blazing lamp?
And brought down from the clouds pouring water?
To produce with it grains and vegetation?
And luxuriant gardens?
The Day of Sorting has been appointed.
The Day when the Trumpet is blown, and you will come in droves.
And the sky is opened up, and becomes gateways.
And the mountains are set in motion, and become a mirage.
