Lyrics Тарас Григорович Шевченко - Марія. ч.1

MARY

(Poem)

Rejoice, you have renewed the essay conceived very well.
Akathist to the Blessed Virgin.
Ikos 10.

All my hope
On you, my blessed paradise,
In Thy mercy
All my hope
On You, Mother, I place.
The holy power of all saints,
Blameless, Good!
I pray, cry and weep:
Look, the Pure One, on them,
Those stolen, the blind
Slaves. Give them strength
Your Son-Martyr,
To get the cross ties
To the very, very edge.
Fifth worthy! Please!
Queen of Heaven and Earth!
They groaned and left
Good end, O Good Lord!
And I, voracious, will sing,
As the poor villages flourish,
The Psalm is both quiet and merry
Your holy little woman.
And now weeping, and sorrow, and tears
The poor souls are poor
I submit the rest of the contribution.

Joseph, the carpenter
Or the saint's bondman,
Mary grew in her legs.
My native was. So, poor
Already much has risen,
She grew to herself and grew
And at the time, Mary became ...
Pink bloomed
In a wretched and alien hut,
In holy quiet paradise.
A carpenter on his hinge,
Like your baby,
Tesla was, and the lathe will leave
And look; and time will pass,
And he does not blink
And he thinks: - No family!
There are no houses,
One-on-one! .. Is ...
Still, my death is not behind my shoulders? .. -
And that is worth your while
And the white wool is spinning
He is holy on that burst
Or take the shore
Goat with a goat heart
And get in and drink,
Though far away. I loved her so much
She is the quiet God of God,
Wide Tiberias,
And glad, even laughing, glad,
That Joseph, sitting, was silent,
I didn't harbor her, I didn't stop her
On began to go; goes, laughs,
And he sits and sits there,
The lathe of the heart is not taken ...
The goat will drink and be fed.
And the girl is worth it,
As if dug in under a grove,
And vaguely, sadly posing
On that broad God became,
And she said, "Tiveriado!"
Wide to the king of the lakes!
Tell me my advice!
How much will come to us
With old Joseph? Oh fate! -
And she bent down like a poplar
One wind rushes into the ravine.
- To him I will stand for the child.
My shoulders are young
His old supports! -
And she rolled her eyes,
Sparks came from her eyes.
And from the good young shoulders
Heathon is watered down
He moved quietly. Never
Such is the beauty of God
No one will see! Evil fate
Barbed thorn held,
She was bent over beauty!
Oh dear! Over water
The walk was quiet.
Burdock near the shore found,
Burdock blew and covered,
Like a spot, its
The head is that vague,
Your holy head!
And disappeared into the dark grove.
O our world is unforgettable!
O Thou, Pure in Wives!
Fragrant green bends!
Which groves? In what ravines,
In which strangers
You hide from the heat
The fiery ones,
That heart without fire will melt
And without water it will burst, sink
Your holy thoughts?
Where are you hiding? Nowhere!
The fire is already over!
Already blushed. And it's a pity
In vain the power is gone.
It reaches the blood, to the bone
The fire is fierce, extinguished,
And, unfinished, for his son
You'll have to go
Hell's fire! Already prophesy,
You already look into your eyes
Yours is coming. Don't see!
I prophesy tears tomorrow!
Blossom the girl's head
Lilies and the abundant
Red poppy seeds. And sleep
Under the cold in the cold,
So far it will.