Oleg Shtelman - Calming the Storm

Yet, in a moment, like tornado, in a crowd of people,
A proud ardour of the mind has played it’s role,
And holy son, just like a rootless slave is weeping,
Got drunk with sin and mind has lost it’s call.

The oath upon allegiance is trampled down
Slyness, cowardice, and deceit
Have brought the death, destruction, poverty all around
Enveloped in the lying charm inside.

A buzzing crowd threatens strictly with a fist,
With dream insane their eyes did shine,
They wish to live without God, no least,
And without Sovereign King they want to strive.

The speakers hover above crowds,
With playful lies the souls they beckon:
“We walk so free, we are allowed!” —
With words of fables they reckon.

“It is an end, you holy” – enemy rejoices through fire,
In the alarm it shouts: “I captured you all!
The Tsar, a heart of Russia entire,
Will die… and all his people then shall fall!”

And someone’s hand, so ruthless and so cheeky,
With iron muscle upon death it stood,
Wishing for blood to see, in final clicking,
The thirst has been fulfilled to see more blood.

And Tsar has asked: “Have no revenge, my friends.
I seek my only merits before God instead
I’ll finish deadly bowl to a bottom’s end —
A crown I shall wear upon head!”

He prayed for them, eyes full of tears:
“Forgive them all, they are deceived,
Lured by sweet speeches in their ears,
May their leaders be forgiven”.

Monarch has loved it’s people and the Mother Russia,
With much more passion than he loved himself
For them he prayed to Christ, asking Messiah,
With love, he drank the bitterness of sufferings he had to dwell.

He knew the Scriptures, knew the words of Christ so well:
As soon as seed will reach the soil at feet,
Then it will die just to arise from soil again,
As much more grains will grow out of it. [4] Evangelic Parable of Seeds (John, 12, 24)

The Russian field will spire from then on,
According to the kind of given seed,
And just like sea it will roam strong,
With flocks of gold, without chaff in it.

Without chafes, it still cannot be there,
As Christ has told in Parable of seeds in words alone,
A field left alone in immutable care,
For time of harvest before Judgment will be done. [5] Evangelic Parable of the Sower, of wheat and chafes (Matthew 13, 24–30; 36–43).

A century has passed already and the field marvels on,
The domes of temples in their glory,
The people with the Walk of Cross move on,
And to the Russian Tsarthey give their glory,

A portrait for an icon they are changing,
Singing the prayers of a beauty pure and strong,
All by the holy prophecy’s foretelling,
His family is gently glorified along!

And faithful ones who followed the King —
For death and truth who always stood their wages,
Have fallen towards ground with gift unseen,
By shining with immortal light through ages.

A lengthy path of victory achieved,
It seems it should be like a dawn rising high,
Just like a banner for all people that have ever lived,
The truth that’s one for all, for you and I.

Yet, there are strange things we can see:
The portraits of the ones who took the lives before
Are hanging honoured right where the people sit,
And in the rooms of government and then at every door.

And in every town and every place,
A great genius and a villain can be met,
Watching from monuments always,
Calling to Mausoleum with his cap hung from head.

A lesson from the history has not been learned,
Yet, still the dawn comes so soft and tender,
A time will come, God’s name they’ll carry on,
And Russian Tsar will be remembered.

Without chafes, it still cannot be there,
As Christ has told in Parable of seeds in words alone,
A field left alone in immutable care,
For time of harvest before Judgment will be done. [6] Evangelic Parable of the Sower, of wheat and chafes (Matthew 13, 24–30; 36–43).

Together with the Virgin Mary,
A Mother of the Earth they call,
They pray to her Son in a glory:
Oh, dear Lord, forgive us all!

Remember us the sinners,
Protect the ones we love,
The souls inconsolable
Give us the strength now from above.

By faith and by the prayer, —
We shall keep the world good,
May it will sound will love —
A hymn of Motherhood!

Oh, Mary, a Mother of God,
Say a prayer for our world!
It forgot a covenant of love,
With the son of darkness it has got along.

It hates and slanders against each other,
It kills or it cripples all in half,
A son rose against father
It poured a golden idol-calf.

There is no Motherland or church,
As all Ham’s children have been born,
A bile and emptiness in words they touch,
Their hearts with awful deceit burn.

Oh, Mary Virgin, Mother of God,
Say a prayer for our world, we call,
Ask the Holy Son from all our heart,
To send us peace, once and for all!

In one monastery of the saints,
Which are so many through the world,
Worked special cook, he was not faint,
With eastern blood in every thought.

He was all pleasant with his soul,
He cooked so fine and baked the bread,
Ways how with four he there followed, —
Was something that nobody ever knew or had:

Pancakes, the cakes, and loaf bread,
An Easter cake, – he could persuade,
Whatever’s called, it wasn’t bad,
Without books, he cooked so great.

A merry one, he liked the jokes,
And always spoke without angry speech,
And just like vegetables stewed in oven he would poke,
He clearly knew the borders he should never reach.

And then they suddenly announce to me,
That he is buried in a ground, he is gone.
In his last journey they have sent him
And it was only me who wasn’t timely told.

I was away from home and way too far,
And even though I was no relative if ever,
I still felt saddened with a mental scar,
As soul of cook was gone forever.

I went to church to light a candle,
And asked for funeral service,
Sat on a bench at the door’s handle,
And our talks saw through my eyes.

The way we sat in this same place,
The way we spoke about life,
Discussing all the worldly ways,
For sentence for an evil we both strived.

I asked him, where you’re coming from?
And how did you come up to God?
I lived my life and I have found my home
With those who came with Moses and apart.

Across the Black Sea full of wonders,
For forty years walked on straight,
I was with God as grief would pounder,
Striving to live in new world’s shade.