Текст песни Тарас Григорович Шевченко - Марія. ч.1

MARIA

(Poem)

Rejoice, for you have renewed your conceived well.
Akathist of the Blessed Virgin.
Ikos 10.

All my hope
On Thee, my most glorious paradise,
To your mercy,
All my hope
I entrust to You, Mother.
Holy power of all saints,
Immaculate, Good!
I pray, cry and weep:
Look, Immaculate, at them,
Those robbed, blind
Slaves. Give them strength
Your martyr-son,
That the cross-shackles were conveyed
To the very, very edge.
Worthy of the fifth! I beg you!
Queen of heaven and earth!
They moaned and left
Good end, O All-Good!
And I, innocent, will sing,
How will the poor villages prosper,
A psalm both quiet and cheerful
Your holy little hand.
And now weeping, and sorrow, and tears
The soul of the poor is poor
I give the rest.

At Joseph's, at the carpenter's
Or the cooper of that saint,
Maria grew up as a mercenary.
She was a relative. So God forbid
Already a lot has risen,
She grew and grew
And at the time Maria became ...
Pink blossomed
In a poor and strange hut,
In a holy quiet paradise.
A carpenter for his hireling,
As if on your child,
Tesla, it was, and the planer will leave
Yes, and looks; and time will pass,
And he does not blink
And he thinks: - No family!
There is no hut,
Alone! .. Is ...
Still, my death is not over my shoulders? .. -
And she stands under the mud
And he spins white wool
On that storm he is sacred
Or lead ashore
Goat with a goat heart
And get and drink,
Although far away. So loved
She became the quiet one of God,
Wide Tiberias,
And glad, laughs, glad,
That Joseph, sitting, was silent,
Did not defend her, did not stop
He did not go; goes, laughs,
And he sits and everything sits,
The planer of the heart is not taken ...
The goat will get drunk and graze.
And the girl is worth it,
As if dug, under a grove,
And vaguely, sadly posing
At that wide stand of God,
And she said: - Tiberias!
Wide king of the lakes!
Tell me, my advice!
What fate will befall us
With old Joseph? About the bottom! -
And she leaned down like a poplar
From the wind bends in the ravine.
- I will be his child.
My shoulders are young
His old support! -
And she cast her eyes round,
Sparks flew from his eyes.
And from good young shoulders
The chiton is patched down
He moved quietly. Never
Such God's beauty
Nobody will see! Evil fate
A thorny thorn held,
Crowded over the beauty!
Oh little! Over the water
She walked quietly.
Burdock near the shore found,
Burdock plucked and covered,
Like a lure, my own
That vague head,
Holy head!
And disappeared into a dark grove.
Oh, our unstoppable world!
O Thou, Most Pure in Wives!
Fragrant green krine!
In which groves? In which ravines,
In which unfamiliar nativity scenes
You will hide from the heat
Flammable ones
That the heart will melt without fire
And without water it will break, drown
Your holy thoughts?
Where will you hide? Nowhere!
The fire has already stopped, never mind!
Already heated. And it's a pity
In vain the power was lost.
It will reach the blood, the bone
The fire is fierce, unquenchable,
And, unfinished, for the son
You will have to go
The fire is hellish! Already prophesy,
He is already looking into your eyes
Your future. Don't look!
I prophesy a tear in the morning!
Flower girl's head
Lilies and so abundant
Red poppy. And fall asleep
Under the sycamore in the cold,
For now.