Clamor dies. Against a jamb reclining
I step forth and stand upon the stage.
From the distant voices I’m divining
What will happen to me in this age.

Agony and night are nailed together
Through my heart by every gaping eye.
If you only please, dear Holy Father,
Would you let this chalice pass me by.

Of your stubborn will I am in amour
And this role I have agreed to play
But today will be another drama
And this time, please let me turn away.

All arranged is action and the kingdom
And the fate of everyone is sealed.
I’m alone. All drowns in Phariseedom.
To live life is not to cross a field.

Boris Pasternak (1890-1960)
translation by Ilya Shambat
https://sites.google.com/site/ibshambat

--- SoupGate-Win32 v1.05
* Origin: www.darkrealms.ca (1:229/2)