The Author’s Online Journal in English can be read at: http://www.my-diary.org/read/897808
From “I’d like to Stop the Earth…”
I’d Like to stop the Earth…
I’d like to stop the Earth
To be summer always,
For having fun and
Not losing the Sun.
I’d like to stop the Earth
For people to have
A bit more happiness
And not to find themselves in hell.
I’d like to stop the Earth
For the wars in many countries to end.
I’d like to stop the Earth
For my and everybody’s will and health.
But, alas!
Insomnia, or the Speculation of the Stars
O sleepless night! I am in love with you!
O youthful night, the belle of the ball!
Thy veritable messengers, the stars, the comets
And the meteors
Arrived on time.
How majestic they are, these celestial bodies!
How magnificent is their canticle in the night!
They are the witnesses of golden ages and falls
Of the ancient empires.
Bloody tyrants, impostors and prophets they know by sight.
Tell me, o Night, wherefore do we live and die?
Or do we just lie down and leave time?
February 14th, 2013
A Funeral Prayer
O righteous God, kind-hearted and immortal!
Behold the daughter of thy Kingdom Come:
Her name is Grace; she suffered a shortfall,
Nevertheless, she was a true la Femme.
She lived with faith and truly preached thy name,
In her pure heart divinity abode;
But Heavens! Please have mercy on thy dame!
She chose a noose to be her everlasting road.
I humbly pray, o Dieu, with genuflection:
Bless her angelic soul, hallow her,
Caress and love thy daughter with affection
As thou didst in the days of yore.
Thy love is endless, ‘tis not an illusion,
Thou givest hope to all the living men.
I here close my prayer. In conclusion
I say: Lead all thy children to thy love. Amen.
May, 2014
From “A White Raven”
The Triumphant Entry
Jerusalem exults with joy:
Behold ye Christ the King,
Of Elohim son and envoy!
«Hosanna! » – His realms sing
And consecrate the world with love
Of the Messiah’s might,
Whose herald is the peaceful dove;
Turn hearts to Jesus: aye!
Men of the world, praise Him, rejoice!
Bring boughs of palm and gifts
And listen to His Holy voice
And live in grace and thrift.
October 11 – 12, 2012
A White Raven
You pass through the prism of the Time,
Thy life is just a moment of it.
Amid the dense woods, elder bushes and pines
You constantly strive to exist.
Your feathers are odd among others –
They’re lucent and white, just like snow.
Their beauty surpasses that of eagles and hawks, when you hover
Amid the fluffy clouds of the celestial pond aglow.
A wanderer eternal and dreamer,
You’ll always abide in Heaven,
And when the good hour of your clock of life strikes,
You’ll ascend in your Glory forever,
You’ll shine in the darkness–the only white Raven.
July 6th, 2013
The Ecumenical Psalm
O Father Elohim, King Christ, beneficent Allah,
Be thou the Magnificence of the hearts and souls of men!
May thy deity abide with humans, and may thy works
Forever be blessed.
We, thy children, strive to enter thy house
And live in the grace of thy Kingdom.
Let all of us be one, as thou art one,
Worship thee; love thee and thy inspired prophets.
Bless our outstretched hands toward each other,
That we could have joy in service of our unification,
That we one day will be one
And behold thy face in the eternity of thy divine love!
January 15th, 2015
Светлячок
Музыка Евгения Лобанова
Заострённой стрелой изо льда с мишурой
Ты пронзила горящее холодом сердце
Светлячка, что явился, как странник земной,
Отворяя таинственной магии дверцу.
Тает лёд, растворяется грусть, как туман,
Закрывается дверь тайных снов и желанья,
И тогда, проклиная печальный обман,
Входишь ты в мир привычных основ мирозданья.
Всеобъемлющий космос, Вселенная вся
Погребёт светлячка убиенную душу,
И она, через тернии к звёздам летя,
Облечётся в горячую зимнюю стужу.
3 декабря, 2014
A Lightning Bug
Music by Evgeny Lobanov
With a pointed, tinseled, light arrow of ice
You have pierced the heart, flaming with cold in the bosom
Of a bug, who appeared like a lay rover, in lights,
Having opened the door of the magic, dark and awesome.
Ice melts, and bitter grief, like fog, starts to disperse,
And the door of mysterious dreams is being closed.
At this time, the delusion of yours you do curse;
See, you enter the world of habitual cosmos.
All-embracing wide space, and the Universe, too
Will forever entomb the bug’s slaughtered soul.
And when she, through the hardship to Heaven goes soon,
She’ll be clad in the hottest, severe winter cold.
December 3rd, 2014
Translated by the author
Прощание с летом
Музыка Евгения Лобанова
Догорает последнее лето,
Солнца луч тихо канул во тьму.
И ищу я, как в детстве, ответы
На вопросы к себе самому.
Что несёт нам грядущая осень –
Расставанье иль сладости миг?
Тайны в жертву смиренно приносим,
Наполняя страданий родник.
Приближая уходом возмездье,
Плачет лето. Так станет навек.
И венчальные наши созвездья
Рассыпаются осенью в снег.
Октябрь, 2015 г.
A Farewell to the Summer
Music by Evgeny Lobanov
The last summer forever burns out,
The sun’s rays in the darkness have sunk.
Like a child, I ponder about
Questions to my own self, in the dusk.
What does the coming fall bring to both of us?
Bitter parting or a moment so sweet?
And the mysteries we sacrifice thus,
Filling that bitter spring of grief.
Retribution is closer; a-leaving
Summer cries. Thus ‘twill be once and for all.
Constellations of our true sealing
Spill from on high to the snow in the fall.
October, 2015
Translated by the author
***
Пепел седого рассвета Вселенной
Вечность любви навсегда оборвал.
Что остаётся? Страданья нетленны,
Неисчерпаемой грусти бокал.
Что же осталось? Признанья, осколки
Писем, обрывки несказанных фраз…
Будут рассветы, свиданья, помолвки,
Только уже не у нас. И без нас…
6 января 2016 г.
***
Ashes fall during the gray dawn of the cosmos,
Once and for all cutting short endless love.
What does remain? Deathless suffering fills the locus –
A deep glass of grief inexhaustible, tough.
What has remained? Confessions and splinters
Of letters and scraps of unuttered words…
Yes, bright dawns, dates, and engagements will glitter,
Not with us, though… And not in our world.
January 6th, 2016
Translated by the author
Грусть
Над моим окном льётся лунный свет,
Звёзд искрится поток бисерный.
Жжёт Луны огонь. Где найти ответ?
Где же ложь, а где горька истина?
Сладок мёд Луны, но, обманчивый,
Вновь влечёт людей околдованных:
Пригубить бы зелье манящее…
Смертью, прахом они зачарованы.
А Луна сияет по-княжески,
Светит ярко, за тучи не прячется.
Ни к чему мне наряд монашеский,
Плакать хочется. Да не плачется…
14 марта 2016 г.
Sadness
O’er the window of mine moonlight shines through.
And the stream of stars sparkles like bright beads.
The Moon’s fire burns. Where is the answer which soothes?
Where is lie and where is the bitter truth indeed?
Honey of the Moon is sweet, but delusive,
It attracts the people enchanted:
«We would take a sip of this potion alluring»…
In the death and ashes they are captivated.
And the Moon shines like a young princess,
It gives bright light, in the clouds – not hiding.
No, I don’t need a monastic dress.
See, I long to cry, but I’m in no mood for crying…
March 14th, 2016
Translated by the author
***
Я созерцаю тьму таинственных миров,
С безумным трепетом смотрю на небеса…
Что было, то ушло в осколки ярких снов,
И падает к ногам Вселенская краса.
И это всё уйдёт в агонию веков.
Кометы пролетят в туманном танце грёз
Они зажгут звезду исконно древних слов,
Что в зеркале времён исчезнут каплей слёз.
29 марта, 2016 г.
***
I see the hosts of dark mysterious worlds,
A-quaking I look upon the sky.
What was, in the splinters of bright dreams fades away,
The universal beauty falls at feet from on high.
And all will pass away in the agony of ages,
The comets will fly past in the foggy dance of dreams.
And they will light the star of ancient words of mages,
Which in the mirror of time will fade like tears’ gleam.
March 29th, 2016
Translated by the author
Умерла игрушка
Осень. Хмурый вечер
Ветхой деревушки
Слёзкою отмечен:
Умерла игрушка.
Мне дарила мама
Зайца и мартышку,
Но любимый самый –
Тёмно-бурый мишка.
С ним в саду играли
На рассвете летом.
Детство без печали –
Добрый мишка, где ты?
Только лист, качаясь,
Падает к опушке.
В вечности растаяв,
Умерла игрушка.
7 – 8 мая, 2016 г.
The Toy has Died
It is fall. Dark evening
Of the countryside
Is marked with the grieving.
See: the toy has died.
My mom gave me presents:
A monkey and a hare.
My beloved and pleasant
Is a dark-brown bear.
In the summer morrow
We played in the garden air.
Childhood… No sorrow.
Where are you, kind bear?
And the leaf a-swinging,
Falls to the woods’ extreme side.
Having waned in oblivion,
See: the toy has died.
May 7 – 8, 2016
Translated by the author