Float up from the bottom of the arctic ocean
Rise from the bottom of the arctic ocean,
mother of the Seraphites
fabulously beautiful Hyperborea,
the power source of the aftartic generation –
Old Russian Hyperborea.
Sacred storerooms sleeping under the ice
with a giant image of Alma Mater Dei et humani on them…
Father, why did you take on yourself
Father, why did You take on yourself
where I should have taken over myself?
No matter how irreparably the disaster happened.
Forgive me, Abba Father, the handwriting is full of tears and hosannas.
Father, there is no more beautiful land where You send the faithful.
About this every second of the prisoners suspects,
but only can not express, numbly leads the mouth.
Whirlwinds roam the earth, the night is covered with a tsunami.
We are tired
of calling You neotmirsky in sunny robes.
Open up, Father, closer than your neighbor is close.
Adored Father, with You and the passion is beautiful.
Without You, the work is futile and in vain.
Avva Father, meet us in the hours of the weekend,
in the days of the beginning, the last, labor.
Prepare crowns for us, open thrones
to the seraphites on earth to the round-the-clock, bald-shaven convicts.
Shame on Vohra and kill her with her torturous speed.
O beautiful destiny! Don’t beg, don’t beg him.
And memory is blind, remembers and knows with tears,
and repeats itself like a child:
Father, this world is full of wonders never seen before.
There are no great or small people on earth,
but everyone is anointed to Calvary
in their own way and keeps watch around the clock.
Forgive us, good Father, and
protect us from the arrows of the enemy, do not betray the pitiful fortune,
this dirty girl with a pile of lascivious clasps.
Who, if not a good Father, will help the prisoner?
Pull us out of the ditch, help us roll the cart
on the way so short, endlessly long.
In the hours of genocide and the Holocaust
It was fifteen minutes to five–
who should I call? who can I find
on the program «pakibytiynye nightly dating
in the hours of genocide and the Holocaust»?
Where can the wanderer hide at fifteen minutes to five?
look into today’s «Skype»
and find out how many neighbors are languishing painfully
in search of a white old man teacher –
From the shell of the generic to split,
to hatch and again to get under it.
Heat. The cover is egg – chicken,
safe, as in a state dacha.
And they are more looking to get rid of the dog’s dope.
The lot of a mortal on earth is ambiguous.
Look deep into my heart,
Find priceless storerooms,
do not disturb the eternal peace
and continue to dare until half past four,
until the guards banish the strange wanderer.
Silent beatitudes to you, adored dear
…Quiet beatitudes to the six billion celestials sleeping
under the heavy sky, whose path is anointed,
and in the morning the dawn gold of the virgin’s distance
and a hundred thousand neighbors waiting in the sunny castles of the Grail.
Silent beatitudes to you, adored
sister-soul, unearthly wanderer.
Quiet beatitudes from worthy and faithful neighbors,
quiet beatitudes in high prayer spheres,
where all the seraphim of Sarov and Solovetsky elders are
heralds of comforting God civilization.
And the music is beautiful as the adagio from Beethoven’s Ninth,
at least three times the soul is dusty, stuttered.
Beatitudes to you quiet on the beds of the abominable stored.
The protection of the Virgin, necessary for the prisoners of the earth.