В минуту жизни трудную
Теснится ль в сердце грусть,
Одну молитву чудную
Твержу я наизусть.
Есть сила благодатная
В созвучьи слов живых,
И дышит непонятная,
Святая прелесть в них.
С души как бремя скатится,
Сомненье далеко —
И верится, и плачется,
И так легко, легко...
1839
At life's most testing moment, when
the grieving heart's replete,
a plea that is most potent then
I call up and repeat.
There is a power, suffused with grace,
when living words combine,
a breath beyond the commonplace,
that holds a joy divine.
Like dead-weight slipping from the brain
now fades my unbelief -
I trust again, shed tears again,
and such relief, relief.
A poem by the Russian poet Mikhail Lermontov which I learned as an adolescent from a Elena Zimnavoda, a very special Russian friend in southern California. Still intact in my memory and which I just discovered as a song by a favorite Russian singer, Oleg Pogudin.
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