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Teach me to love Thee, O Lord,
With all my mind, all comprehension,
To entrust my soul into Thy care
And my life with each heartbeat’s ascension.
Teach me to heed and fulfill
Only Thy merciful will,
Teach not to grumble or complain
Of my toilsome and sorrowful lot.
All whom Thou came to redeem
With Thy purest and holiest Blood, –
With a deep and unselfish love
Teach me to love, O my God.
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- K.R. (Grand-Duke Konstantin Romanov)
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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PRAYER
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In difficult moments of life,
When sorrow constricts the heart,
A wondrous prayer to God
I steadily do recite.
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There is a blessed strength
In the accord of living words,
Within them a sacred charm
So indescribably breathes.
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A burden is shed from the soul,
Doubt swiftly disappears,
Belief returns, and so do tears,
And all is light and clear.
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- M. Yu. Lermontov
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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| LORD HAVE MERCY! |
Of all the prayers that I know,
All prayers sung or read aloud –
One prayer breathes with brilliant strength,
The wondrous prayer “Lord have mercy”!
A single plea it does contain –
I ask the All-compassionate God
To save me with His awesome might,
And so I call out: “Lord have mercy”!
I sail the turbulent sea of life,
I meet with joy and poignant sorrow.
What power saves me from the storms?
The wondrous prayer “Lord have mercy”!
When tears of deep despair I weep,
And dreams of passion overwhelm me –
Then with especial strength of heart
I keep on crying: “Lord have mercy”!
And as you end your life on earth,
My soul, continue with this prayer
Beyond the grave, keep up your plea
Of hope eternal: “Lord have mercy”!
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Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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| TO THEE! |
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To Thee the seas give sounding glory,
Before Thee the abyss stands mute,
The constellations burn and quiver,
The stars’ chorale hums like a lute.
To Thee the streams do sweetly sing
And redden in the flaming dawns,
The mountains to Thy heights ascend,
All shining with eternal snows.
Of wisdom do the forests murmur,
And flowers do their fragrance cense,
Of Thee do testify the dews,
The dark of nights, the light of days,
The midnight dawn of Arctic ice,
The cliffs, the crags, the misty fogs,
The fading and the bloom of things,
And caravans of springtime clouds.
And even reptiles fall before Thee,
When seeing Thy thrice-radiant light,
And all the oceans hymn hosannah
To the Creator of all worlds bright.
I am a lowly worm before Thee,
But from my heart, O Lord and God,
Does issue forth my sacred hymn,
So unlike any earthly ode.
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- V. N. Utrenev
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff |
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THE PROPHET
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All parched with spiritual thirst,
A gloomy desert I traversed,
And at a crossing of the roads
A six-winged seraphim appeared.
His fingers lightly as a dream
The pupils of mine eyes did touch –
And, like a startled eagle’s eyes,
The orbs flew open at his touch.
He touched my ears – and they were filled
With noise and clamor of the bells;
I heard the trembling of the skies,
The heavenly angels’ lofty flight,
The sea creatures’ underwater path,
The blooming of a distant vine.
And then he bent down to my lips
And from them tore my sinful tongue,
So full of malice, idle talk,
And in its stead within my lips
His bloody hand did then insert
A wise old serpent’s stinging tongue.
All corpse-like in the desert I lay,
Till summoned by the voice of God:
“Arise, O prophet of the Lord,
Regard and heed the Word divine,
Comply with My celestial will,
And traveling the seas and lands,
With words burn thou the hearts of men!”
- A. S. Pushkin
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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I THANK THEE, LORD!
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I thank Thee, Lord, for every single thing!
After a day of sorrow and anxiety,
Thou grantest me the setting of the sun,
The spacious fields and gentle blue horizon.
At dusk I am alone again as always,
But as the sunset spreads its fiery flame,
The Evening Star begins to melt within it,
All sparkling like a richly precious gem.
And I am happy with my mournful fate,
And there is joy in sweet realization
That I alone stand mute in contemplation,
That I – to all an alien – speak withThee.
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- I. A. Bunin
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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THE GREAT LENT
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Slowly and softly the bells are ringing,
Slowly the faithful are coming to pray.
Inside the church we hear mournful singing –
Tis the Great Canon of Andrew of Crete.
The prodigal son’s lamentful entreaties,
The publican’s heartfelt and pitiful sigh –
All can be heard in the evening’s chanting,
In the dark twilight of the altar on high.
The elderly priest standing humbly among us,
Holding the ancient book in his hands,
Ardently prays with sadness and sorrow,
Intercedes before God for all our sins.
Somewhere outside, just beneath the windows,
Droplets of thawing snow fall from the roof,
The true high voice of a young soprano
Rings in the choir like a beautiful flute.
Who is it there, who in weary prayer,
Weeps over sinfully wasted days?
Whose sighs are those and fervent entreaties
That are slowly extinguished in the sun’s setting
rays?
Have mercy upon us, O Lord, have mercy! –
The sorrowful harmonies rise to the sky…
The faithful are ceaselessly praying and praying…
The flames of the candles are burning high…
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– V.Utrenev
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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PRAYER |
When comprehension dawns of your captivity
By days all filled with worldly vanity,
And of your heart entirely fettered
By melancholy and anxiety;
When fires of doubt and gross deception
Upset your soul’s inner tranquility, –
Stand thus in solitude before the Lord
And ask Him then ever so quietly:
Grant me, O Lord,
The tears of purest prayer.
The humble Visage looks upon you,
And sorrowfully gaze the eyes
Of Him Who taught us that our prayer
Should be simplicity and awe;
Then sudden warmth will pierce your heart,
A quiver will constrict your voice,
And quietly your tears will flow,
Engendered by those moving words:
Grant me, O Lord,
The tears of purest prayer.
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- Yuri Bogatkevich
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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| THE NATIVITY OF CHRIST |
Today Christ was born –
An angel appeared,
He flew through the sky
And joyously sang:
O people, rejoice
And glory this day –
For today Christ was born!
The shepherds were first
To come to the cave –
In the manger on straw
The Saviour they found.
They stood and they wept,
And they glorified Christ,
And His Mother most Pure.
While the magi who saw
The bright shining star –
Came to worship from far
The God and the King.
They stood and they wept,
And they gave Him their gifts:
Frankincense, myrrh and gold.
O Saviour, we all
Have sinned before Thee,
Among sinners all
Solely Thou art holy.
Our trespasses forgive
And redemption do grant,
For today Christ was born!
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff
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THE NINTH WAVE
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The ninth wave came, and angry was the sea.
The wrath of waves made feeble minds afraid.
The saving land was lost in distant mists.
The wail was awesome of the powers below.
The gale clawed at the sails. The breakers warred.
Whole precipices filled with fury heaved.
And He just stood, the Lord of sea and land,
The King of silence, Ruler of the waves.
Quite overwhelmed then, an apostle fell
Before His feet and fearfully exclaimed:
“It is the end! O, Teacher, we are lost!”
“O, ye of little faith,” said He, “wherefore
Do you doubt and bow your heads so low?
Where there’s no faith, there fear begins to rule.”
Imperiously He stretched His right arm
And ordered the sea and wind to cease,
Put out the flame of lightning in the waves
And waved asunder the shroud of clouds.
Then a great silence fell upon the sea
And a great quiet ruled the vasty deep,
As though the Angel of Peace passed above
And through the vale of evil down below.
Who is He Who can tame the rage of seas,
Command obedience of the very winds?
Who in the distance weaves the crown of stars
And sees the Satan fall into the dark?
My Lord and God, when shipwreck threatens me,
Let Thy right hand direct and guide my bark,
So that it may avoid the evil spells,
So that the foe confounds me not upon
The endless sea of earthly woes.
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- V. Utrenev.
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic.
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FROM THE APOCALYPSE
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I knock and wait at the door of your inn,
Open the door and let Me in.
I’m naked, weak, the lowest of low.
My road is hard. Far must I go.
Penniless beggar through the world I roam,
Knock and wait at many a home.
Who’ll hear My voice? Who’ll take My load,
And bid Me enter his abode?
To such a one I’ll come and call him Mine,
Break bread with him and share the wine.
You’re weak, exhausted from labors and strain.
With Me your strength you will regain.
With My hand I shall dry your tears of pain
And you will never cry again.
I shall console you, your pain I’ll feel,
And share with you your evening meal.
I knock and wait at the door of your inn.
Open the door and let me in.
- K. R.(Grand-Duke Constantine Romanov).
Poem translated by Kosara Gavrilovic.
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GOD IS IN EVERY PLACE AND THING . . .
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God is in every place and thing,
Not only in our lucky star,
Not only in the fragrant flower,
Not just in joys sweet dreamings bring,
But also in the dark of poverty,
The sightless terror of our vanity,
In hurtful things, where light is not,
In things to bear which is our lot…
God’s in the tears of our pain,
The wordless sorrow of goodbyes,
The faithless seekings of our brain,
In suffering itself is God.
It is through life upon this sod
That we must reach the unknown land,
Where with the crimson trail of nails
Lord Christ will touch the wounds of man.
And that is why all flesh must die,
And why God is in all that is.
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- Prince Vladimir Paley
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic. |
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Prince Vladimir Paley, member of the Russian Imperial family and cousin to the Tsar-Martyr Nicholas II, spiritually inherited the divine gift of poetry from another royal poet – the Grand Duke Konstantin Konstantinovich Romanov – known under the initials “K.R.” On July 5/18, 1917, together with the latter’s sons – Ioann, Igor and Konstantin Konstantinovichi, and the Grand Duchess Elizabeth and nun Barbara, Prince Vladimir Paley was thrown by the godless into the mine at Alapayevsk, thus earning for himself the crown of a New Martyr.
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O, MY LORD GOD
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Why cannot I take up Thy chains,
Lord God, and bear them as my own!
Why cannot I endure Thy pain,
Accept Thy Cross upon me lain,
And on my head Thy thorny crown!
If I but could in veneration
With my lips touch Thy holy robe,
Or dusty traces of Thy feet,
O, my Lord God, that art my hope,
My strength, my shield against defeat!
I would give all my meditations
To Thee, the blessing of my songs,
Thoughts of my days, my vigils long,
And every heartbeat I would render,
And my whole soul to Thee surrender…
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- Count Aleksey Tolstoy
Poem translated by Kosara Gavrilovic
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O Lord, Thou wishest me to grow,
As does in spring a tree,
And bear my cross, not drag it low,
Along my way to Thee;
That I should rise after I fall,
Prepared to wage Thy war,
Stay on the course and do it all
In prayer and in awe;
That every day in Thee I trust,
Concealing nought from Thee,
And that Thy Holy Spirit must
Be never lost to me.
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- Anonymous Moscow bard.
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic.
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THE SILENCE OF CHRIST
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Christ with Pontius Pilate. |
When the cunning Pharisee
Insidiously tested Christ,
And when the villain wished to stone
To death a maid who had transgressed -
Christ bowed down and His silence kept…
When Pilate in his inquisition
Before Him stood in all his might,
And by one question let Him see
His wish to save Him from His plight -
Christ only watched and silence kept…
When He beneath His thorny crown
Came out before the angry crowd,
With crimson blood upon His face,
And when He felt the sting of canes -
Christ, as before, His silence kept…
When at long last His body maimed
Was crucified upon the cross,
And all the boundless wickedness
Was driven home with hammer’s blows -
“Forgive them, Father!” - He exclaimed.
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- A. Korovay-Metelitskiy
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic |
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REPENTANCE
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Lord!
Thou art here,
Invisible,
And everywhere.
Thou givest love to us,
Forgiveness of our sins, and peace.
Thou hearest us, such wretched sinners,
Inviting us to Thine divine feast.
Feeble are we,
And naked,
And besmirched,
Full of forgetfulness,
Ingratitude and filth.
And yet with hope we pray to Thee:
Cleanse us, our Lord God, and redeem.
O, hear the prayers of Thy saints,
Who pray for us, lost deep in sin.
For the sake of their meek and saintly lives,
Wash clean with tears our blackened souls.
O, let our contrite cry reach Thee!
Hear us and keep us in Thy sight!
We pray, we beg despairingly:
Hear us, our Lord God, and redeem.
Our deeds show up our words’ futility,
But the Prodigal Son’s footsteps we trace,
To return to Thee in all humility,
And fall on our knees before Thy face.
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- Deacon Andre Rudenko
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic
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THE GREAT LENT
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Dark somber vestments… soft gentle singing…
Glowing reflection of red vigil lights…
O God Almighty! Grant me endurance:
Heaven and hell battle deep in my heart…
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Whisper of prayers… Sternness of faces…
Sonorous censers and pale blue smoke…
O God Almighty! Grant me Thy mercy:
Lightly as incense I rise unto Thee!
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Out of the church yet again I shall forfeit
Those solemn promises given to Thee –
Fortify me in this combat eternal,
Purify, Holy, my sin-laden soul!
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Give me resolve to speak bravely and boldly
When I am caught in life’s prickly embrace.
Dark somber vestments… Evening twilight…
Yellow wax candles’ sorrowing flame…
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| Translated by Natalia Sheniloff |
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| THE CRUCIFIXION |
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A choir of angels glorified the greatest hour,
The heavens melted in an all-consuming fire.
To God the Father He said: “Why didst Thou forsake Me?”
And to the Holy Virgin said: “O weep not, Mother…”
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Mary the Magdalene shuddered and wept,
The beloved disciple was rigid as stone,
Yet no one did dare even throw a glance
At the Mother Who quietly stood alone.
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| Translated by Natalia Sheniloff |
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