Behind the glass

The images darken behind the glass

On Friday, that is called the Great.

Pain sends a bow

In the lower back. Miraculous faces

Closely in the bookcase behind the glass -

I'll press one icon to my heart,

Where lay a frightening fracture

With a frequency of four vicious hertz.

I myself, like the faces behind the glass -

Dym, quiet and look tired.

I know and triumph I, and bummer,

And I will complain that everything is boring.

But the smile behind the glass will sparkle -

My terrible Savior will smile,

Turning into gold a rusty scrap,

And a ray will penetrate into my abode -

Will play a clean glass

And the remnants of darkness and decay will be torn:

"Do not grumble in your heart: Love was.

There is She. And he expects you from captivity ... "