Between darkness and time, all your sleep like the sand,
Life is moment, and death is like ambush.
Three nice sisters, three weavers, and a little God,
Born like love and reward in the rosebush.
And you know, my God, you are holy world child,
Beyond fate, beyond human will wrathful.
And your piercingly pure and so joyful your gaze
And will never know fear of pain bashful…
I will shield you from evil and anxious fate,
From the terrible worldly upheavals —
Please, be calm, oh my Child, you’re my little God,
Accept goodness of deep revelations.
Between pain and the joy, there is little nice stroke
or a cry, or some personal birthtime,
You’ve recently known all the things about life
And now faded you are by the neglect.
Rise like Sun among clouds of the deep holy spheres,
like the God who is wise and almighty,
and reveal all your Joy, oh my little God,
Be reborn in the Soul of world’s rightness!
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Author:
cellinic (
Offline)
- Published: September 30th, 2025 07:43
- Comment from author about the poem: Initially the translation from Russian into English of the poem by Olga Ruda
- Category: Religion
- Views: 7
Comments1
A wonderful poem of how we all have our gods big or small in form or not and how we nourish them. Lovely
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