On the feast day of St. Joasaph of Belgorod, we are pleased to published another English translation of a poem by L. N. Pogozheva on the repose of St. Joasaph.
View from the bell tower of the Trinity cathedral (of the Trinity Monastery) on Cathedral Square in Belgorod, during the celebration of the canonization of Joasaf of Belgorod, September 4, 1911 (Uncovering of the relics of Saint Joasaph, Bishop of Belgorod). Photograph by Sergei Prokudin-Gorsky. A frosty evening and a shining moon,
A glowing lampada.
In a chamber, where the saintly bishop lies
Quietly, visions hover above.
A luminous childhood amidst paternal gardens
And a mother’s caress so dear.
Kiev is filled with saintly dreams,
Blue are the waves of the Dnepr.
A radiant youth full of dreams,
Heavenly, innocent visions,
The joy of fasting, repentance and tears,
Feat of countless midnight watches.
The far-away Lavra in a vision arises,
The abbots’ shrine glimmering,
The monastic choir prayerfully sings,
The monastery’s ring fading away.
O quiet Belgorod and your cherry gardens,
Joy of the midday sun,
The feat of the saint in great efforts,
The sweetness of grace mysterious.
Zeal towards service, fearless in speech,
Rebuker of dark sins,
Sermon of truth like an angel’s sword,
Forgiveness for humble sinners.
In a home of the Graijvor village all is quiet
As a lampada is fading.
In a dark forest a cell stands
In it, an old man weeping.
Hearing from heaven a wondrous voice,
“Your son, the saintly bishop, has fallen asleep.”
He looks up to the sky – out of the shining stars
A joyful dance winds around the night sky.
The old man remembered as some 40 years
A luminous vision he saw:
The Queen of Heaven stood in the sky
and before Her, his son in fervent prayer.
It was then that an angel his son
In a bishop’s Mantia clothed, flying from above.
“I have heard your prayer, o my child”
Said the Mother of God.
“This vision has come true…” the old sobs
In fear, in trembling of soul,
Quietly he whispers in that tremulous moment,
“A kind man of prayer has fallen asleep.”
A frosty evening, the moon glimmering,
The pale stars glowing,
In the evening sky, a holy soul
Ascends to God.
In the evening, a holy soul,
Ascends to God.
