Al-Mursalat

By the winds sent forth one after another, storming, spreading the clouds, and by the angels who separate truth from falsehood and deliver a reminder, to clear excuses or to warn: what you are promised will surely happen. When the stars are blotted out, the sky torn open, the mountains blown away and the messengers’ time is set, for what Day is it all delayed? For the Day of Sorting. Woe, that Day, to the deniers. Did Allah not destroy the earlier peoples and make the later ones follow them? Did He not create you from a lowly fluid, kept in a secure place for a known term? Did He not make the earth hold the living and the dead, with tall mountains and sweet water? The deniers will be told: go to what you denied, to a shadow of smoke with three branches that gives no shade or protection from the flame, throwing sparks as big as palaces, like yellow camels. That Day they will not speak, nor be allowed to make excuses. It is the Day of Sorting: all are gathered, the first and the last, so if you have a plan, use it. The righteous will be among shades and springs, with any fruit they wish: eat and drink happily for what you used to do. Eat and enjoy a little, you wrongdoers. When told to bow, they would not bow. Woe, that Day, to the deniers. So in what message after this will they believe?