Павел Шавловский - ОТЕЦ, услышь мое моленье.....
текст песни

Father, hear my prayer
Perhaps this is the last time
In prayer, I am offering the past
In its cruel dying hour.
I'm not afraid of mortal flour,
After all, I, Creator, strive for you.
Always walking with me,
I am under your great look
in the love of heaven increased,
And now, my hour has come.
For the word of truth high,
The enemy cannot understand in any way
that I am not afraid to die,
Even if death and cruel.
But I am praying for a prayer
Discover the pain of your soul,
Creator, I ask for a mother:
Oh, help her unhappy,
After all, she has one here
The only, beloved son,
Keep her, my eternal father,
With your love endless
I give it to you
In your divine hands
Oh, give her strength, I pray,
At the last hour my mortal flour.
Now, bowing your knees,
I pray before your face,
And tomorrow morning, in the arena,
I will ascend to the throne of fame.
And in the heart, joy is embraced;
A little more, a little more
And I will fly into a heavenly city,
And I will live with you, with God.

Night sleeping capital,
The great city is the city of Rome,
where deep, in a damp dungeon,
The son prayed the free sky.
Night summer coolness
She covered everything with her dew
And quietly, sleeping joy,
Give a sweet rest.
Having strengthened the heart with a prayer,
Young sufferer slept calmly.
And a beam in the window penetrating the moon
He was illuminated by him:
Everything breathed in it with beauty,
in the features of a heavenly face
At the dying hour, he was calm,
Like the son of a great creator.
People like him, at that hour a lot
For God, it was sacredly dying
so that in the middle of pagan powers
The love of Christ triumphed.
And blood of divine children
Rome Arena warmed up,
But everything is stronger, in the middle of sorrows,
Living faith increased.

The time flew by the night,
And the door creaked sadly,
and the guard to follow the decree
It goes. And he is the last time
It walks along the Roman streets,
And with pain in the heart recalls:
About how many of his friends
They walked about this dear
And after, they died holy
From terrible torture of executioners.
But here, blocking the road,
not having time to reach the arena,
He meets the eyes of familiar eyes,
Almost at the end of the whole way.
How immediately the hands weakened,
How the wound fell ill in the heart,
lips can be heard barely
He whispered with longing: mom.
And immediately the heart squeezed with pain
from wild, unearthly flour,
In the look, the request, suddenly broke through
Inexpressible prayer:
No, mommy, do you hear?
They lead me to kill
After all, you are hard to breathe in pain,
Why do you suffer stronger?
Now the door cells will open,
how you will look in the flour,
When the animals are in pieces
Fangs will be torn off!
Oh, regret yourself, dear,
I pray leave, do not torment yourself,
How terrible this flour is evil
Go, mother, please! ..
But the maternal view is deep
He said with love of unearthly:
Son, I'm not alone here,
God with me, the Holy Father.
You are right, cruel this flour,
But our Lord suffered stronger.
Go, let the brief separation
He will bring us closer to the king of kings.

Oh, Christian patience,
How strong is your God in heaven,
They don't know what fear is
Your heirs of salvation.
Before all the people a warrior of faith,
(how young he is),
The last breath, jump panther.
And the blood pours with his stream.
Young eyes closed,
The crown of suffering is acceptable
And a maternal tear
Fell on the damp ground.

Years fly, fly an arrow,
How quickly time runs out.
And we, walking the earth's path,
We meet bloody traces.
They lie there all the time,
Their thickness of time will not hide,
They talk about a lot
All the waters of the world will not wash them.
Perhaps each of us
suffering in the world is also waiting for
But the one who once saved us
Our labor will bless the earthly.
Let there be grief, let the torment
And the tests are ahead
But we go to the country of salvation
In hope, faith and love.

Poem author: Pavel Shavlovsky

Name of the verse: Pankrati