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SPIRITUAL  POETRY 
The Royal Martyr
Saint Nikolai
The Royal Way
To the Tsar-Martyr
Poet of Russian Sorrow



SAINT NIKOLAI
When the Sovereign Emperor Tsar
The throne abdicated so humbly,
He prayed to the Mother of God
To take over the land and the crown.
Deceived by the traitorous boyars
And mocked by the jeering crowd,
Foreseeing the future, he wept
Over Russias most bitter lot.
He prayed as he thought of past glory,
And as before the icon he knelt,
He sought not his sorrow to utter,
But pleaded for Russia instead.
Forgetting his wife and his children,
His precious and ailing Alexis,
The forthcoming torments and murder,
He pleaded for Russia instead.
The February tempest howled,
An accordion drunkenly wailed,
Beyond the windows the Empire
In mortal agony writhed.
The generals battled for power,
The Germans of victory boasted,
The bloodthirsty mob was on rampage,
And only the Emperor prayed:
Such terrible years are coming,
Inconsolable times are arriving.
Who will endure all these sorrows?
Who will carry the burden?
The people will not have a father,
The land will be ruled by vampires,
The people will renounce the Saviour,
And God in His wrath will discard them.
But Thou, O Most-merciful Mother,
Do pluck from the grasp of Hades
Thy fallen, misguided children,
Recover their souls, lost and straying.
Do save them, O Mistress, show mercy
When they abandon the Saviour.
Do save them when they are in peril,
And cant save themselves any longer.
They anger Thee with their sinning
And bring only anguish and sorrow.
Do save them when they no longer
Appeal for their own salvation.
To God do return my homeland,
Deliver it from Satans fetters,
The hearts that are clouded with evil
Do mollify and guide to repentance.
In exhaustion his eyelids were drooping,
But sorrow awoke him from sleeping.
His hope struggled against depression,
And love called him to be sacrificial.
And again on his knees for the people
No longer their ruler or Tsar
For the great Russian homeland now prays
The holy servant of God Nikolai.


-- Archdeacon Roman (Tamberg)
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff

THE ROYAL WAY

For all who sorrow, oh Most Pure One,
To be so meek as to descend
From throne and in the cellar of death to end -
So thus begins the royal way for each
Of us for the kingdom of God to reach

And for this earthly kingdom to forsake.
There is no other way for us to take,
But the shortest path
Of the meekest Tsar!

Seeing the future in what came before,
When dead was Russia and the Tsar was slain,
Seeing that neither we may yet restore,

Let us be meek Gods wisdom will decide
What was in vain and what was not in vain.
Let us be meek and in Gods love abide.

Let us be meek, so that the people are
Once more made worthy of their Tsar,
And Russia is restored to them again.
The Tsar and the Tsarevich.
- I. Grachev
Translated by Kosara Gavrilovic


TO THE TSAR-MARTYR

He is alive,
He gazes down upon us,
He calls us with his heavenly voice,
Our conscience yearning to awaken.
Tsar-Martyr Nicholas
Tsar-Martyr Nicholas.
Calmly He bore his cross,
So bloody and so cruel,
And our native land
From bloodshed he can free.
He is alive,
He waits,
He calls,
He calls and pleads for our tears.
With his myrrh-streaming icon
He sends a message to us here
From the divine heights
Of the Heavenly King.
He, earthly king,
Loving us even now,
Together with his holy Family
Offers holiness to us.
Will we respond to Him?
And to his Familyand to God?
Kneeling,
Crying,
Tearfully
Pleading?
Or shall we continue,
Drowsily passing by,
To yawn and languish -
While having such a
Mighty intercessor
Before the throne of the Eternal King?

- Deacon Andre Rudenko.

POET OF RUSSIAN SORROW

Twenty-three years I have lived now,
Twenty-three.
Every day Thou added sorrow,
Every day.
Without dawn night followed nighttime,
Without dawn,
Charring eyes with blackest evil,
Charring eyes.
Heavy blows Thy hammer gives, Lord,
Heavy blows.
Open wide for us whore young yet,
Open wide,
The white door to our homeland,
The white door.
Do you see? The soul is gray at
Twenty-three
- Ivan Savin
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff

LEGEND OF THE TSAR-MARTYR

There’s a legend alive
That our Tsar even now
As a mendicant walks throughout Russia
With a knapsack he walks,
To repentance he calls,
And the door to each heart he approaches.
Tsar-Martyr Nicholas Who responds with his heart
To the royal appeal
Sheds a genuine tear of repentance.
The Tsar takes this same tear
And puts into his pack:
When the knapsack is filled to the utmost,
Russia’ll have a new Tsar,
And we will, as of yore,
Freely glorify our Creator!
Weep, Russian people!
And beg absolution
For your terrible Judas’s action:
Where the Urals now drowse,
The Tsar’s royal blood
Ensanguined the murderous cellar!
And for this now the people,
With false liberties fettered,
Suffer endlessly grievous enslavement,
While in the blue yonder
The Holy Crowned Martyr
Entreats the Lord God for our pardon.

 

S.A. Lopukhin
Translated by Natalia Sheniloff

 

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