Thank You Lord that I judged to be born
In a country where the fullness of pure faith.
Where in the secular lakes affected
And the life of thy saints, and the beauty of the sky.
For that I thank, God Most Lucent,
What edge birch family can call.
What hour stubble, in the decline of the quiet summer
My mother was resolved overnight.
What gave me the air to breathe my Russian,
From distant countries in native walls refund.
That before You in holiness united
Simpleton and last Highness Prince.
For everything, for all that work only,
You Give Me and glorify the Light.
What is permitted in the Temple of Communion
From the bowl, there was way above and no.
For that hour, when you once prizovёsh
Appear before the face of the Bright King
The gray-haired priest at the ancient cemetery
Pregreshny prayer pomyanёt me.
© Copyright: Oleg Steiner 2010
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