Unquenchable thirst of love…. Михаил Годов

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      I pray to smoke-blue bush of lilac

      I pray to apple-tree in bloom

      I worship Lord's ingenious findings

      And glorify the beauty's grove.

      The beauty, clear and pristine

      That tempts us through the centuries

      Like lady's precious memory

      Like lovely eyelids flickering

      Like Rose's scent so fragrant.

      Oh, flight of butterfly, so frail!

      For me you always will be sacred

      Soul always looks for beauty's trail

      The whole world it can roll down

      But love is still its only crown!

      The harvest time is now near…

      Ripe fruit are hanging from the tree

      In hands of your entirely giving

      Themselves, so generous, as can be.

      With yellow wax shine garden pears.

      And apples're burning like the flame.

      They turn to me and soul's embarrassed,

      They now have so much to tell

      About something long-awaiting,

      About something so concealed,

      About the endless, never fading

      About life, about myself…

      I fell the rhythm of universe

      And the love's essence so inmost…

      The beauty has become my faith:

      My pray to Her is endless.

      It is for Her I'll put on chains

      And step on pilgrim's path

      It's before Her on my knees I'll bow

      At Her virtuous holy things,

      Where the clearest water's falling down

      With sagebrush like honey, bitter-sweet,

      Where lilies gleam so white, so far away,

      The haystacks smell so fine

      Yes, beauty is my faith

      And the Woman is divine!

      All worship is entirely for her,

      None kind of beauty is inmost that more!

      This is secret, so luring and burning

      This is marvelous centuple oval

      This is tender and ardent smile,

      Which, due to fate's inconceivable turnings

      Tempting us with the lust that still lasts

      Curing us as a goblet of balm

      In the soul tender flowing chant

      The concord of the skies consonance:

      Carefully drafted, sculpted and carved

      Some greatest artist, with true inspiration

      All this heavenly grace incarnation

      In each women I hoped to find

      All this grace for entire immersion

      In Love's light, in my inner devotion!

      From lovely lips reproach's not a reproach

      Although it hurts more painfully and deeper.

      But bitter words for you I will not search

      And hit the target with my shot so meanly.

      Hard feelings will not shade my eyes.

      And anger won't take unawares my mind.

      My heart won't be deceived with tone hostile

      Won't quench in soul the love song sound.

      I used to be much easier to hurt

      But since that time I things have changed a lot

      God give the blessing for the ones in love

      And teach them to forgive, and seek forgiveness!

      For penance isn't derogation, is this?

      Thus faith expects the blessing from above…

      To feel eventually love's fever

      In all your blood, in all your cells,

      So, that you soul's entirely speechless

      And take the life as gift you can't expel

      To give yourself completely in response

      Like Romeo and Juliette, every instant

      Trouveres, poets and you, minstrels!

      Your love was strong without repose

      Shakespeare, Ronsard, Petrarka, Dante

      How wonderfully love was elegized

      Like Rafael's' divine and pure art

      Talent of Love, so high and so sacred

      Oh, Lord, just give me such a blessing

      In love with love to bring Her my confessing!

      And here I see the large tenth-bared jaw…

      Oh, how such a vision is disgusting

      Here's a though, inside my mind it grows

      That «power» is the predator, so lusty.

      When torturing of victims, strength and power,

      Still hiding beast's appearance under guise

      It, even if at scandalous expiry

      It keeps on stealing, keeps on telling lies.

      And there is no darker deed than this

      And there is the greatest of misfortunes

      More scary than the virus, is the greed

      Of power, in its uncontrolled disorder.

      The power rests on mud and blood

      And only power of love

      I praise…

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