Текст песни Детско-юношеский хор преп. Иоанна Дамаскина - Видение Дивеевской старицы

Winter night and bitter cold outside; Fir-trees and pines silently stand in silver. Quiet, deserted, no sound is heard around; Bohr has forgotten a century-old mysterious dream, In Timo’s mist over a white glade, one timidly, like a ghost slithers the golden moon It shines with lights on loose diamond snow, Brightly playing on sketic red crosses Peacefully, a monastery in snowdrifts inspired sleeps, Only in the distance a single light sparkles. In a pine cell, shrouded in tremulous mist, the lamp lamp is hot before the Holy Icon. The flame, flickering, then goes out, then, flushing, trembles; Staritsa Ksenia looks at the image with love. Tears roll from old, blind eyes; Whispering lips: "Oh, Lord, intercede. You are for us!" Russia is dying; sedation in the kingdom grows; Dirty unclean simple Orthodox people. The blood has littered the native forests and fields, The land nurse our land cries and groans. Pity, Savior, over a dark mad country: Soul humble, burned by a long war, Orthodox Russia perishes, to the delight of enemies; Pity, Lord, do not punish us for our sins. Good God, who created both the firmament and the seas, Come down to us and return our native Tsar to us! .. & quot; Winter night and bitter cold outside; Fir-trees and pines silently stand in silver. Quiet, deserted, no sound is heard around; Bor century forgotten a mysterious dream. A hot lamp burns before the Icon of the Holy; The old woman looks - and sees Christ in front of her: The mournful eyes gaze at her with love, As if they want to calm and comfort her. Gently say: "Do not be sad, miserable daughter, Do not fall in the Spirit, hope, pray and believe". The lampad is shy, twinkling in the darkness, burning; Staritsa mournfully in the mist, staring in hopelessness. Looks - and sees the prayer of an honest creature, Next to Christ Himself, the Holy Caller of the King. The face of His sorrow, sorrow on the sovereign; Instead of the crown He stands in a crown of thorns; Bloody drops quietly fall from the brow; The deep thought in the folds of the eyebrows lay down. A hermit looks, looks, and seems to her - In the uniform uniform merge into the abyss of shadows the Image of the Lord and the Image of the Sufferer-Tsar ... Ksenia prays, with a humble faith of sorrow: "Great God, one, sinless, holy, Essence of a slave to a talented open; The mind is enlightened, so that I can understand the Will of Your grace beyond my reach! "... Winter night and the bitter cold in the yard; Fir-trees and pines silently stand in silver. Quiet, deserted, no sound is heard around; Bor century forgotten a mysterious dream. Hot lamp before the image of the Savior is burning; Staritsa Ksenya in the mist, staring out into infinity. She sees - a radiant, outhouse; In the temple the table is set, stands across; Food and bowls for those in a row stand; Together with Jesus, the Twelve are sitting behind the bench, And at the table, closest of all, he can see Him at his right hand Nicholas, his Tsar. The meek and luminous of His triumphant Face, As if He grasped the happiness desired by the heart, As if opened To His luminous eyes of Mystery, invisible to our sinful eyes. His precious crown is shining in diamonds; From the shoulders, the porphyry of scarlet falls; Light as the sun, sovereign, jubilant gaze; Yassen, bezbrezhen as sky azure expanse. Tears fall from the old, blind eyes: "queen; Father Tsar, pray Thou Worth Breeder, for us!" An old woman whispers, and her mouth opens softly; The word is heard, the Testament Word of Christ: "Daughter, do not be sad; By loving your king, I will be the first to set up in the Kingdom of Saints at Myself! & Quot; Winter night and bitter cold outside; Fir-trees and pines silently stand in silver. Quiet, deserted, no sound is heard around; Bor century forgotten a mysterious dream.