Forgiveness Sunday

[SAH]

Boris Hersonskij

There was a girl with a withered arm in the morning before the market,
a healthy hand carried with cream jug,
and his soul, anxiously and angrily, that fear, then darkness.

and, sensing the darkness, the road had come for her unclean
that ferret, narrow-eyed, black, fluffy,
a jug - Skok, Smetanka vyel, swollen, wants to get out - and did.

Views girl - in a pitcher of horns, hooves, teeth,
eyes glowing coals, the spirit of tobacco, like a grandfather of the tube,
afraid jug carry, and throw, it is known, sorry.

Only now is her sickly nuns meet - what you
All skukozhilas whether fear or any concern,
what is your concern, tell their sorrow.

He stood, listened, shook his gray beard,
says - go straight through the woods road a short,
an abandoned monastery - not age as a demon bear!

Join us, pray, forgive all, and the one that send down damage,
dried up his hand, squeezed his chest, turned the longing or cramps,
even forgive the witch, and a pitcher of the cross.

A girl was with a prayer, and all forgiven,
Even his grandmother, the witch, and a pitcher of the cross,
dry hand - suddenly forgot that ill.

And the bursting of the demon, and disappeared, like a smoke, melted,
like a wax on behalf of fire and darkness ever left
sinful soul, and a pitcher full of cream.

* 2008 http://borkhers.livejournal.com/567426.html