FOR THE LAST CALL OF ADAM

By Yasen Vedrin

(Mortal Remains)

Even if I distribute all I own –

The earth will stay with poor men in its space.

For somewhere there the poverty is grown,

Because the faith was sowed in hollow space.

And my heart suffers, mourning in deep grief,

Because the human does not seek the Lord,

And wretched destinies cry for relief –

Hungry, sick, barefooted, by time ignored.

About a tree planted by rivers deep

The truthful, holy Words remind me now –

How Heaven watches over those who weep,

And cares for all the living to endow.

How in that generous and Holy Hand

No single soul is left in need and pain.

But nowadays across this earthly land,

The Maker mourns, forgotten and in vain.

The poverty is just a hollow space.

It weaves a spiderweb through human souls.

The thirsty dry mouth suffers in this place,

But never asks for Springs to make it whole.

It will dry out before the death will rise.

It will shrink up without a single drop.

And if the poor man sees it with his eyes,

With his last strength away from it he'll hop.

And giving back his spirit to the High,

With quiet grief he’ll tell the Lord at last:

"I wandered dead beneath this heavy sky,

Without Your Life to hold my spirit fast!

For destiny without You is despair.

The world turns everything to nothing down.

Grant me Your Spirit, hear my final prayer,

Before the earth returns into the ground…"

This verse for hope I offer to your mind,

And may it crush the hollow space and sin –

For the last call of Adam and mankind

To the One Father, reigning from within.