Writings of Porphyry Ivanov. Poems.

The Blizzard.

The blizzard tore around in the dark,
She howled and wailed, and melted in the distance.
Nevertheless his bare feet weren’t harmed
By the delicious snow made of silver.
The frost compressed him for his daring and might,
And struck with his hard spear all the things,
But for to open the way of life,
He walked alone and with bare feet.
He went through everything with endless patience,
When walking on the snow or the ice.
And only for him his Mother Nature
Resignedly read her fairy tales and rhymes.

At times she rigorously turned to him,
And he was taken into the depths of hell —
There at once did blow a high wind,
The blizzard and the dark were right and left.
She’d gotten a son, and as a mindful mother,
Did her utmost to give him afterward
The suit of Adam and his garden,
Her strict obedience and love.

She took him out from the beaten way,
Where the world is glorifing the war,
For sending forth to the extensive plain —
To the remote hill and to the storm.
And thou, O Mother, many times
Took’st him with thee and led’st him as a kid
To rooms where are no telltale signs,
And where no one had left his print.

Now thou send’st thy son to the seabed,
And giv’st him all the mysteries and knots —
Although there the prey fishes dwell,
He should be taken by them for their bird.
There’s a special indication of him,
That gives him the capacity to be
Even among the very savage beasts —
They’ll like him and assist him in his needs.

It seems it’s he who’ll rescue all creation.
When he comes to the bottom of the sea,
There will spread a fragrant emanation,
And the sea dwellers will pronounce of him,
“It’s really the redeemer of creation,
Let’s make a move and stand in front of him!
Now there will be equity in Nature,
The people won’t be such hostile things.”

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