А говорят, пришёл Христос!
В неопалимости печали
Бродил Он тихо меж берёз,
Горевших белыми лучами.
Да, в осторожном сентябре
Желта листва, светла берёста,
Но чую: неба синь добрей,
Но знаю: Он пришёл непросто.
В бомжацких кедах, с рюкзаком,
Видавшим горестные виды,
Он по земле ходил пешком,
На власть имущих без обиды.
Кричал, что гибнет естество,
Что жизнь ничтожна и бесславна…
Сквозь пламя видели Его
Седые матери Беслана.
Пред Ним вставали на пути,
Его бросали в обезьянник,
И там, где правды не найти,
Его по почкам бил охранник.
Он бедным хлебом помогал
И утирал богатым слёзы.
Сквозь смех и освист Он шагал,
Но… пламенели вслед берёзы!
(2006)
He Has Come!
(By the author)
Christ’s really come to us, they say!
In inextinguishable sadness
He past the birches makes His way
That burn for Him like sacred candles.
September with a care is signed,
Leaves are of light; fresh is trunks’ surface,
The heaven’s blue has grown so kind,
I know for sure, He's come on purpose.
His sack’s worn out, His boots and suit
Are not with it. In steady coolness
He goes all over th’ earth on foot
And isn’t aggrieved quite at the rulers.
He says that human nature dies,
That man is born just to expire.
The gray-haired mothers' madden eyes
Saw Him ’n Beslan through flames of fire.
Some stupid guards stand on His way
And throw Him roughly in their cages.
Where there’s no truth and light of day
Their clubs beat Him in wild outrages.
He gives His bread to all the poor,
Wipes tears on all the rich men’s faces,
Bad laughter followed Him ’n His tour
But birches’ flares light up His paces.
(2010-07-19)
