Tuesday, March 1, 2022

ALEXEY E. KALAKUTIN

 


ALEXEY E. KALAKUTIN

 

Elena And León

(Fragment)

 

4th century, beginning, Rome.

Warriors seized power in the great empire

and the world, already lying in the twilight,

it was ready to go into the dark and die.

 

Not Flora, not Mercury, not Venus,

It is not Mars, it is not an Olympic leader.

We go into battle with Christ, with the faith of Christ,

and people are scared to death!

 

The town was broken by the decree of Maximiano.

The decree was ruthless and cruel

henceforth he would forbid Christians

to believe that the Jewish vagabond is God.

 

The time has come for repression and persecution.

It's time for torture and crazy death

people got on their knees

betraying Christ in exchange for the lives of the children.

 

The children of Christ were forced

offering the sacrifices of the Roman altars,

otherwise they were waiting

fragments of flesh on the fangs of beasts.

 

Liturgical vessels are sent to melt

in buckles and clasps for soldiers

and the relics that are an exceptional miracle

they lay like remains of dogs.

 

Ruins of basilicas.

Flying ashes from burned books

gave birth to a silent cry of helplessness in the people,

it turned into a loud scream.

 

Not everyone during a period of terrible violence is left

without murmurs, without fear and without words

having abandoned the spirit, they ascended to heaven,

leaving the meat to look at the world from the crosses!

 

Translation by: Marlene Pasini

 

Returning To God

 

"Lord, I cry out to you, listen

remember the voice of my prayer ”.

Psalm 140

 

Tell me, tell me, tell me, tell me

to me with a star of truth in the constellation of lies.

Explain to me, how the earthly torment will end?

A series of boring days that drains to death?

Or is it that no one will ever know?

 

Guide me, guide me, guide me, guide me

to a world where the rains do not cry of sadness,

a world of smiles, funny and happy songs,

to a world where eternal happiness and tenderness are in the chest,

where my little world is interesting for everyone.

 

Protect me, protect me, protect me, protect me

of the vices that I will find along the way.

I am earthly and subject to material influence

Stay with me, help me walk the path

Help me not to shake my foundation!

 

Confirm me, confirm me, confirm me, confirm me

that I will still see you ahead.

All hope is in you, comfort is your word.

Take me out of earthly doubts,

and I will believe in happiness again, as in my youth.

 

The Sweet Martyr

A fragment from the poem

 

Rumors are flies and the tattles are gadflies

Feeling the high blood and stinging aggressively,

Driving the sting into flesh and the souls

Of the sovereigns and royal successors shamelessly.

 

The virulent piercers in Russian Empire

Fell to the lady from Alemannia,

That one inspiring love and admiration

Of high-minded Romanov, son of Emperor.

 

Anna, excuse me, I state things straightforwardly,

Wounding your feelings by tactless pronouncements,

Cannot be secretive, cannot gloss over,

Thoughts seething madly in brain like denouncements.

 

In former times, you remember, the common herd

Twisted the face with dislike for the empress,

As if for dinner not vodka, but cider

Is served with steak that is coarse and tasteless.

 

Members of gentry glanced at her askance,

Merchants did not start to dance with excitement.

Gingerbread cookies baked in the Russian lands

Didn't accept Alemannic sweet items.

 

Old and young, in a jacket and fashions,

Did not compassion the peregrine queen.

The ancestor worship is dear to Russians,

The image of Mother is in the genes!

 

Father the Tsar, and the queen should be Mother!

But she was born by the Britons and Germans.

To understand  Russian world like the others

For stranger's heart is extremely uncommon!

 

You may the name Alexandra receive,

You may feel alone so much less,

But cannot wear your heart on your sleeve,

Because you are proud Alice of Hesse.

 

Big Russian soul cannot be bought!

You are a Russian since you were born –

With Pushkin, Yesenin, the noise of birches,

With tear of the Virgin inside your core!

 

Translation: Marlene Pasini

 

ALEXEY E. KALAKUTIN

 


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