Золотил послушничек купола
Рыжий, словно солнышко, юн, как май,
и рубаха белая чуть мала,
пуговка потеряна, рваный край.
Долюшка недетская, без родни,
сирота казанская, так и есть.
Помнит, как с сестренкой считали дни,
чтобы в пасху вдоволь хоть раз поесть.
И яйцо с куличиком дать щенку,
божья тварь...(а чем она хуже нас?),
прислонившись к выцветшему венку
на могиле папеньки. Дождь из глаз
тихо шел, а крошечная сестра,
лепетала: «Тишенька, ты не плачь,
посмотри, какой мне большой вчера
подарила тетенька красный мяч...
Посмотри, братишечка, кто спешит?
Дядя в черном платьице, повернись!»
Обернулся. Кладбище. Ни души...
Только сердце ёкнуло: «Наша жизнь».
- А пошли-ка, девонька, в монастырь!
Мы в миру похоже и ни к чему...
Я Раиф-то видел, от красоты
не ослеп чуть...Видно Господь ему
золотит сиянием купола.
- Расскажи братишечка, мне о нем.
- Видишь, в костровище лежит зола?
Он - огонь, который сквозит во всем...
Золотил послушничек купола,
помогая Господу, как уж мог...
Белая рубаха была мала,
не вмещала сердце, в котором Бог.
Благодарю Миледи Ольгу за чудесный перевод!
http://www.stihi.ru/2015/10/24/7829
***
The novice gildes Temple-domes ...
The novice painted domes by gold...
he was young like May, redhead like Sun,
And white shirt on him was too small,
lost button and ragged the edge.
Fate is not for kids, haven't relatives,
like the orphan from Kazan, he was...
He remembers - how to count the days
for Easter, with little sister, to eat enough...
And to give to Puppy the egg with a cake,
it's God's creature... (why worse than us?)
He is leaning against the withered wreath
on the grave of his papa. From eyes - drips rain
He walked quietly, but tiny sister
has murmured: 'Tishen'ka, don't cry,
look at me, what great red ball
auntie gave me to play... yesterday ...
Look at here, my brother, who's in a hurry?
uncle in black attire, let's turn around!'
He looked back. Not a soul... just cemetery.
but his heart skipped a beat: 'it's our Life'.
- And let's go, my sister to the Monastery!
It seems - we're to nothing in all the world...
I've already seen Raif, and from beauty
not just blind... you see, Lord gilds domes
by brilliance shining... in morning early...
- Tell me, please, my brother, about it.
- You see, the ashes has stuck in bonfire?
It is fire, which shines through every thing...
The novice gildes the Temple-domes ...
having helped the Lord, as much could ...
The white shirt for it - was too small,
it couldn't hide the heart, in which is God.
Свидетельство о публикации №115092200494
Young novice painted domes by gold...
He was young like May, redhead like Sun,
And white shirt on him was too small,
lost button and ragged the edge.
Fate is not for kids, haven't relatives,
like the orphan from Kazan, he was...
He remembers: how to count days
for Easter, with little sister, to eat enough...
And to give to Puppy an egg with a cake,
it's God's creature... (why worse than us?)
He is leaning against withered wreath
on grave of his papa, from eyes drips rain...
He walked quietly, but tiny sister
has murmured: 'Tishen'ka, don't cry,
look at me, what a great red ball!
auntie gave it me to play... yesterday...
Look here, my brother, who's in a hurry?
Uncle in black attire, let's turn around!
He looked back. Not a soul... just cemetery,
but his heart skipped a beat: 'it's our Life'.
- And let's, my sister, go to Monastery!
It seems, we're to nothing in all world...
I've already seen Raif, and from this beauty,
I'm not been blind... you see, Lord gilds domes
by brilliance shining... in early dawn...
- Tell me, please, my brother, about it.
- Do you see, the ashes has stuck in bonfire?
It is fire, which shines through every thing...
Young novice gilds Temple-domes,
having helped Lord, as much he could...
His white shirt for him was too small,
it couldn't hide his heart, in which was God.
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