Gàidhlig
Salm 104
O m'anam, beannaich thusa Dia; mo Dhia, 's tu 'n Triath ro-mhòr; Tha thusa air do sgeadachadh le mòralachd is glòir. Seadh, chuir thu solas dealrach glan, mar thrusgan umad fhèin; Is shìn thu mach, is sgaoileadh leat, mar chùirtean nèamh nan speur. Sailean a sheòmar leagadh leis air uisgeachan mar stèidh; Mar charbad rinn na neulan tiugh, 's e ruith air sgiathan gaoith'. 'S e fhèin a rinn na h-aingil fòs nan spiorad làidir threun; 'S e rinn nan teine lasarach a theachdairean gu lèir. Is bunaitean na talmhainn fòs shocraicheadh leis nan àit A-chum nach gluaist' as 'ionad e a-chaoidh nan cian gu bràth. Is dh'fhalaich thu le doimhneachd e, ceart mar gum b'ann le brat; Os cionn nam beann 's nan slèibhtean àrd' na h-uisgeachan do stad. Air cluinntinn dhaibh guth d'achmhasain, theich iad air falbh gu cas; Is fòs ri guth do thàirneanaich, le deifir chaidh iad as. Ri taobh nam beann chaidh iad a suas, 's a sìos air feadh nan gleann; Gu ruig an t-àit' a dh'òrdaich thu 's a shocraich thu gu teann. Chuir thusa romhpa crìochan buan nach tèid iad tharta null; 'S nach till iad air an ais a-rìs dh'fhalach na tìr' le tuinn. Cuiridh e mach na tobraichean air feadh nan glac 's nan gleann, A tha gun tàmh len sruthan bras' a' ruith air feadh nam beann. Do bheathaichean na macharach deoch bheir e dhaibh ra h-òl; 'S na h-asail fhiadhaich coisgidh iad an tart 's an ìota mòr. Am fagas dhaibh nì eòin nan speur taigh clùmhor tàimh dhaibh fhèin; Is eadar gheugan cuirear leo an ceilear binn an cèill. Uisgichidh e o sheòmran àrd' na beanntan mòr' gun tàmh; An talamh tioram gheibh a dhìol le toradh gnìomh do làmh. Bheir e air feur bhith fàs don sprèidh, 's air luibh bhith fàs gun sgìos Do dhaoine, chum gun tugadh iad on talamh biadh a-nìos; Is fìon a chuireas cridhe dhaoin' air shubhachas 's air ghean, Is ola fòs a nì an gnùis le maise dealrach glan. 'S e bheir dhaibh aran mar an ceudn' fhreasdal am feum gu leòr, An cridhe dhaoin' a chuireas neart, le misnich mhaith is treòir. Tha craobhan àrd' an Tighearna ro-làn de bhrìgh gu lèir, Is seudair mhaiseach Lebanoin a shuidhicheadh leis fhèin. Is bithidh nid san ionad ud aig eunlaith luath nan speur; Na craobhan giuthais aig an storc mar ionad tàimh dhi fhèin. An tèarmann fhèin, am beanntan àrd', na gobhair fhiadhaich leag; Na coinein bheaga mar an ceudn' an còsan blàth nan creag. A' ghealach dh'òrdaich esan fòs a sgarachdainn nan tràth; Is aig a' ghrèin tha eòlas math mar laigheas i gach là. Do nìthear leatsa dorchadas, is thig an oidhch' gu grad; An sin bidh beathaich allt' na coill a' dol a-mach air fad. Ri beucadh bidh na leòmhainn òg' ag iarraidh cobhartaich, Is bithidh iad ag iarraidh bìdh air Dia ro-chumhachdach. An sin nuair dh'èireas suas a' ghrian, cruinnichidh iad le chèil', Gu h-uaigneach laighidh iad a-staigh nan garaidh dìdein fhèin. Is thèid an duine mach an sin gu 'obair mar as còir, Is leanaidh e gu dìcheallach a shaothair gu tràth-nòin'. Cia lìonmhor d'oibrean mòr', a Dhè! an gliocas rinn thu iad; An talamh fòs led shaoibhreas mòr, tha làn air fad 's air leud. Mar sin an cuan tha farsaing mòr, 's gach nì a shnàigeas ann, Na beathaichean tha beag is mòr, gun orra cunntas cheann. Tha longan siubhal ann gu tiugh; 's tha 'n Lebhiàtan mòr, A chumadh is a dhealbhadh leat, ri sùgradh ann le treòir. Na slòigh ud uile tha, a Dhè, a' feitheamh ort a-ghnàth, A-chum dhaibh biadh gun tugadh tu gan cumail beò gach tràth. Na bheir thu dhaibh a thoirbheartas ga thional siud tha iad; Tràth dh'fhosglas tu do làmh gu pailt, le math sàr-lìonar iad. Air falach dhut do ghnùis a-rìs, thig cabhag orr' air fad; Eugaidh, tràth bheir thu asd' an deò, tillidh rin ùir gu grad. Do spiorad fhèin gan cruthachadh, rìs cuirear leat a-mach; Aghaidh na talmhainn mar an ceudn' nuadhaichidh tu le dreach. Bidh glòir an Triath ro-mhaireannach air feadh gach linn am feasd; Is nì Iehòbhah gàirdeachas na gnìomharan gun cheist. Air sealltainn air an talamh dha, criothnaichidh e gu grad; Tràth bheanas e ri slèibhtean àrd' bidh deatach dhuibh air fad. Do Dhia Iehòbhah seinnidh mi an cian a bhios mi beò; Is bheir mi moladh mòr dom Dhia ri fad mo rè 's mo lò. 'S ro-mhilis blasd' mo smuaintean air; biom ait an Dia a-ghnàth. Gun tigeadh sgrios air peacaichean, mach as an tìr gu bràth, 'S na biodh na h-aingidh ann nas mò; O m'anam, moladh seinn Do Dhia Iehòbhah; seinneamaid le Haleluia binn.
(Bho Tiomnadh Nuadh, Dùn Eideann (2002))
English
Psalm 104
Praise Yahweh, my soul;
O Yahweh my God, how great you are,
clothed in splendour and majesty.
He wraps himself with light like a garment;
he spreads the heavens like a tent,
and builds his palace on the waters;
he makes the clouds his chariot
and rides on the wings of the wind.
Winds are his messengers
and flames of fire his servants.
He fixed the earth on its foundations,
never to be moved.
You clothed it with the deep like a cloak,
the seas covered the mountains,
but the waters fled at your command,
they took to flight when you thundered,
and flowed across mountains, down the valleys
and into the place you assigned to them.
You fixed a limit they could not pass;
never again will they flood the earth.
He makes springs gush as waterfalls
which flow between the mountains.
They water all the wild beasts;
the wild donkeys quench their thirst.
Birds of the air nest by the waters
and sing among the bushes.
He waters the mountains from his high dwelling;
by his works he provides
for all that earth needs.
He provides the grass for cattle,
and plants for people to grow,
bringing food from the earth,
wine to gladden people's hearts,
oil to make their faces glow,
and bread to feed their hearts.
The trees of Yahweh flourish,
the Lebanese cedars he planted,
where the birds build their nests
and the stork builds its home in the pines.
The wild goats have the mountains
and rocks are a refuge for badgers.
The moon marks the seasons
and the sun knows when to set;
you make the darkness of night
when the beasts of the forest prowl,
and young lions roar for prey,
asking God for their food.
The sun rises
and they slink away
to return to their dens and sleep.
Then people go out to work
and labour until nightfall.
O Yahweh, your works are countless,
you made them all by your wisdom
and filled the earth with creatures.
The vast expanses of the sea
teem with countless creatures,
living things both great and small.
Ships sail on many courses,
and Leviathan, which you made for sport.
All these look to you for food
at the times when they need it.
You provide it and they gather it;
you open your hand
to fill them with good things.
If you hide your face
they are terrified;
when you withhold their breath,
they die and go back to dust.
When you send your spirit life begins,
and you renew the face of the earth.
May Yahweh's glory last forever;
may Yahweh be pleased with his work.
When he looks at the earth it trembles;
his touch makes the mountains smoke.
I will sing to Yahweh all my life;
as long as I live
I will sing praise to my God.
May my meditation please him
as I rejoice in Yahweh.
But let sinners vanish from earth
and the wicked cease to exist.
Praise Yahweh, my soul!
Praise Yahweh!
(From The Psalms, Slough (1994))