Па святой зямлі - Яго святыя ногі
"Across the holy land – His sacred feet..."
Across the holy land – His sacred feet,
The touch of holy hands to their bowed heads,
The passerby is known by all the streets,
And every stone offers a place to nap.
A violent wind echoes a fierce storm,
Approaching, though it seems so far,
The blind whirlwinds change their form,
As His sacred steps echo afar.
Pure, long-awaited image is what they see
All the harlots, those lost in the sea of sin,
All the filthy, weak and sick, or drunk, undoubtedly,
They have been whispered words with glee ago:
"He’ll come! He’ll come for sure!", - they’ve been told.
Перевод Игната Канчэвского
© Copyright: Дора Довбаш, 2023
Свидетельство о публикации №123050605515
Свидетельство о публикации №123050605515
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