Я видел его кровь на розе,
На ярких звездах славу его глаз.
Мерцанье тела на замерзшем плёсе,
И дождь из слёз, стекающих на нас.
Я видел его лик на всех цветах,
Под грома звук и щебетанья птиц.
Слова, что написал на всех холмах,
И слышал глас с икон и плащаниц.
Я видел тропы со следами его ног,
И сердце бьющееся, как морской прибой,
И каждый тёрн в венце увидеть смог,
И крест на каждом дереве святой.
I see his blood upon the rose
I see his blood upon the rose
And in the stars the glory of his eyes.
His body gleams amid eternal snows,
His tears fall from the skies.
I see his face in every flower,
The thunder and the singing of the birds,
Are but his voice - and carven by his power,
Rocks are his written words.
All pathways by his feet are worn,
His strong heart stirs the ever - beating sea.
His crown of thorns is twined with every thorns,
His cross is very tree. |
