Текст песни Детско-юношеский хор преп. Иоанна Дамаскина - Видение Дивеевской старицы

Winter night and crackling frost in the yard; Fir trees and pines stand silently in silver. Quiet, deserted, not a sound is heard around; Century-old Bor has forgotten a mysterious dream, In the blue fog over a white glade alone is timid, like a golden moon glides like a ghost; Shines with lights on loose diamond snows, Playing brightly on skit red crosses Peacefully, the monastery sleeps in snowdrifts, Only in the distance a lone sparkle shines. In a cell of a pine tree, shrouded in trembling mist, a Hot lamp burns before the Holy Icon. The flame, flickering, then goes out, then, flaring up, trembles; Old Ksenia looks at the Image with love. Tears are rolling from old, blind eyes; The mouth whispers: "Oh Lord, stand up for us! Russia is dying; sedition is growing throughout the kingdom; Unclean simple Orthodox people are troubled. Blood has stained our native forests and fields, Our land is crying and groaning. Have pity, Savior, over a dark, crazy country: Humble souls, incandescent by a long war, Orthodox Russia perishes, to the delight of our enemies; Have pity, Lord, do not punish us according to our sins. Great God, who created both the firmament and the seas, Come down to us and return our native Tsar! .. "Winter night and crackling frost in the yard; Fir trees and pines stand silently in silver. Quiet, deserted, not a sound is heard around; Century-old Bor has forgotten a mysterious dream. A hot lamp burns before the Holy Icon; The old woman looks - and sees Christ in front of her: Sorrowful eyes look at her with love, As if they want to calm, comfort her. Gently say: "Do not be sad, miserable daughter, Do not fall in spirit, hope, pray and believe." Timidly the lamp, twinkling, in the darkness, burns; The old woman is mournful in the darkness, looking into hopelessness. He watches - and sees, honestly creating a prayer, Next to Christ of the Passion-Bearer of the King. His face is sorrowful, sorrow on the sovereign Face; Instead of a crown, He stands in a crown of thorns; Bloody drops quietly fall from the forehead ;, the Duma lay deep in the folds of eyebrows. The hermit looks, looks, and wonders to her - The Image of the Lord and the Image of the Suffering King are merged into a single Image in the abyss of shadows ... enlightened, so that I could understand with your soul Thy Will, grace inaccessible to me! "... Winter night and crackling frost in the yard; Fir trees and pines stand silently in silver. Quiet, deserted, not a sound is heard around; Century-old Bor has forgotten a mysterious dream. A hot lamp in the image of the Savior burns; Old Ksenia looks into the darkness, looking into infinity. She sees a radiant, alien chamber; In the temple, the table is installed, stands across; The dishes and bowls for those called in rows are standing; Together with Jesus, the Twelve are sitting at the dressing room, And at the table, closest to all, at the right hand of her she sees Nicholas her King. Mild and bright His triumphant Face, As if He comprehended the happiness desired by the heart, As if the Secrets invisible to our sinful eyes were revealed to His luminous eyes. His precious crown shines in diamonds; Scarlet scarlet falls from the shoulders of the porphyry; Bright as the sun, a sovereign, jubilant gaze; Clear, vast, sky-blue azure expanse. Tears fall from old, blind eyes: "Father Tsar, pray you, breadwinner, for us!" The old woman whispers, and her mouth is quietly opened; The word is heard, the cherished word of Christ: "Daughter, do not grieve; King of your love, I will first be the first in the Kingdom of Saints unto Myself!" Winter night and crackling frost in the yard; Fir trees and pines stand silently in silver. Quiet, deserted, not a sound is heard around; Century-old Bor has forgotten a mysterious dream.