TO ALL OF YOU, MY FRIENDS!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Live always guided by your Faith,

Cherish each moment Love imparts!

Give freely, for within the gift

Man bears the witness of Christ's heart!

Awaken always filled with Hope,

Sleep within those Good Hands so dear!

And may the Holy watch above

The loving Heart of God so near!

Forgive all pain and offense you bear,

Hold not debtors chained in sin!

The soul is like a shell so fair,

And laughter is the pearl within!

Be beautiful with Truth so clear,

With wondrous seeds within your breast!

And sow in fields plowed deep and near

Rays of Heavenly Light and rest!

Break earthly chains that hold you tight!

Do righteous deeds with all your might!

Be ready for the Moment's call

With longing and angel wings in flight!

Remember that the Lord Most High

In His own Image fashioned you!

Be His song that echoes through the sky!

Be His sparks that gleam so true!

For comes the Day and Hour so bright

When you shall see His Holy Face!

And all who lived with God in light

Shall be in Him in endless grace!

Amen!

THE PATHWAY OF THE MEANING — LIFE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

The fate will tear away like leaves inside,

From here and there, the travelers passing by.

The early hours turn to late, worldwide.

After the dawn — our final hour is nigh.

And this so winding, little segment's space,

With such a long or short period to run,

Will always reach the point of endless grace,

Where all our written, earthly paths are done.

And there’s no fear that someone is arriving back,

While someone else is starting out at dawn.

A sufferer dies his whole life on the track,

To struggle when his final breath is drawn.

The old man will not ask where they have flown —

The years of youth that long ago took flight.

And past the mournful curtain, all alone,

There is no one to stay his step tonight.

He would remain, if there’s a need or space,

But only as a memory and sign.

A little lamp, however small its place,

Amidst the darkness like a star will shine.

Within a memory, man paints his trace.

He leaves behind his links and furrows deep.

The cosmos in his soul finds living space,

With brilliance that the ancient people keep.

And should someone sigh out that he was there,

Even if gone forever from the race —

In love, owed to a memory and prayer,

He will revive inside a heart's embrace.

For every seed grows like a sprout to view.

It grows and lifts its tender height to sky.

If one is man — he’s born to love anew

And be a spirit, where the dust must die.

And though the mortal remnant snaps and breaks,

Giving its final fruit until it's done,

It will not end... Yes! For the spirit's sakes,

The pathway of the Meaning — Life — rolls on...

A LIFE MORE SUBLIME THAN ORPHEUS’ SONG

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

A faith was possessed by the Thracians of old,

When burying some wealthy ruler and king,

To lay in his tomb all his jewels and gold,

For him to take down to the next world and spring.

Within the dark grave, they would also enclose

Some coins and an artfully crafted rhyton.

To drink with the gods divine nectar he chose,

Receiving by right a grand, heavenly throne.

They held a great feast when a life had passed by,

And when the old man took his final departure,

For somewhere out there, life won't stop in the sky,

And there it is better, and lighter, and brighter.

The ruler turned slowly to skull and to bone,

Decomposed into mold, turned to dust and away,

But later, uninvited guests to his stone

Would rob the grave quickly with swiftness and prey.

The ancient old customs have somehow decayed.

The mounds and the ridges of old left behind,

Were plundered by bands of grave-robbers delayed,

With pickaxe, a shovel, and adzes to find.

And it became clear — that a man doesn't bear

To the world right beyond either title or land.

An enigma is grave. Full of questions and care.

Why live this vain life that we don't understand?

Oh, there is the truest of gold up above!

The purest of silver you’ll find in that space!

But one must live richly, with spirit and love,

To turn to a Temple for God and His grace!

From earthly realms walking the Heavenly Way,

Surpassing the Thracians with faith and with call —

A life more sublime than what Orpheus could play

Awaits you up there, past the grave and the fall.

THE HOPE OF RODARI

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

"If I could have a little shop, clear,

With just two shelves, inside a wall,

Do you know what I would sell here? —

Hope. Hope for one and for all..."

Gianni Rodari

What could I distribute on this earth tonight?

Rodari’s sweet and bright hope to impart?

Will it pierce human sorrow with its might,

By striking with an arrow to the heart?

Transfixed — let grief collapse into the clay,

And let the trace of it be brief and fleet.

While joy, reborn so wonderfully today,

Will leave its lasting imprint, fresh and sweet.

Is it not worth it — for the beast to write

A ballad, sharpening his pencil’s trace,

While sunset — with the first stars of the night —

Overflows with pure love across his face...

The cruel tyrant — reaching out a hand —

To gently stroke a stray dog on the street.

No matter who he was within the land,

If today sleeping yearnings wake and meet.

The miser — like an autumn tree around —

To shake his banknotes generously and bold,

And in a flash let all the grief be drowned

On warmed cheeks of the beggar in the cold.

Let heaven rain with goodness from above,

And let the people have no raincoats there...

Let one holy hope ring out with love

In every heart and palms held high in prayer.

With what will someone gift you in this line?

With that same hope, so irresistible to view?

Take it! It doesn't cost a single dime!

Yet it is worth to have it live in you...

THE WISDOM OF THE TORTOISE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

I still possess a true and shining reason

For this amazing concept we call "life."

And I believe, before my final season,

I’ll slow my hurried pace within the strife.

The summers passed at first sight, quickly spinning,

As if towards the end my stride was bound.

But my own soul, pure to its deep beginning,

Whispered these weary words with no more sound…

"Stop for a moment in your flight, O mortal!

The end will come, whether you wish or not!

And instead of soaring near the distant portal,

Kneel down at least just once upon your plot.

For only thus you'll see a bright bud growing,

Or catch the sunbeams in the morning dew,

While winds with trembling wisdom ever blowing

Will whisper holy calls from skies to you.

Transform a single minute to an hour.

Stretch out the instant to a joyful day.

Even the unheard word will give you power —

Once heard, you will be filled with meaning's ray..."

The soul grew still. The thought went out of vision.

Then flashed again beneath a crimson dome.

I still possess a true and shining reason

For this amazing concept of our home…

Is it not like that shelter we've inherited,

In which you live through centuries, secure,

When like a tortoise, wise and deeply merited,

You turn the minutes into hours, pure?

THE RETURNEE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

I do not fear to fade away alone

Amidst the snowdrifts of a winter’s night.

For fate is beautiful, in ways its own,

Even beyond the final line in sight.

And even if unjust it may appear,

It follows its own providential theme.

Life comes, and then it leaves this earthly sphere,

And every breath is but a drop in stream.

One person dies, another comes to birth.

The torch is passed by bloodlines. With Olympus.

And laurel? It is not chosen on this earth,

But sits like halos on the heads that window us.

If I can just ignite a tiny spark,

The fire will continue when I’m gone.

Why should I mourn my ending in the dark,

Or let unfulfilled yearnings weigh me down?

How long does a footprint left behind

Tremble upon the waves before it dies?

Forgot, it vanishes into the blind

Oblivion where the water columns rise.

And only he who seeks will ever find

The treasure that another gave away —

Even if lost chimeras of the mind,

In which he lived or didn't yesterday...

The world is not the ultimate, sole cause

Of all the things that happened to occur.

Before I leave it, bound by nature's laws,

I want no things for me, I do aver.

For when I cross that final, silent sill —

I am a returnee out there, no less?

Only then, let my weeping eyes fulfill

The grief that can no longer hurt or press...

A CAUSE

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

I do not look for proofs in theorems' design,

I have no scheduled hour to see a shrink.

The friendships that are fake dissolve in time,

With no regret or worry on the brink.

I do not want with useless, blind illusions

To fill up every corner of my space.

If I should trip — I bleed from cold contusions,

But I am always there, in time and place.

With that so necessary, calm apathy,

I skip past every card that Vanity deals.

I don't debate with the devil's attorney,

I trust the deeds before the words he feels.

And somehow, as a stoic by definition,

Stretched out from Marcus Aurelius to Seneca's line,

I am not tortured by this long transition

Along this unending, deep path of mine.

I chose it to be far from worldly glory.

Even the laurel branches dry and fade.

The crooked and the straight share the same story,

When scratching for a rusted crown self-made.

The meaningful — by many still undetected —

I will preserve for travelers behind.

To be a giver of virtues, well-protected —

What higher cause could my own ego find?

THE CLASSICS WITH QUILLS

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

High up above — where birds alone are soaring —

I love to drift, on widespread wings sustained.

To lead a talk with classics, while exploring

The timeless traces that in me remained.

There Dostoevsky with his Karamazovs I will meet,

And Gogol with his dead souls I will find.

They humble down my ego at Christ's feet,

When heavy grief leaves all my joy behind.

Tolstoy will wrap me in Resurrection's light,

And Pushkin with Onegin will shine clear.

While down below — with sword and fire bright —

The world will hiss with bitter rage and fear.

With Chekhov’s prose my loneliness I’ll heal,

Yesenin will become my haven white.

And Lermontov’s young passion I will feel,

Blending my sorrow with a pure delight.

And this vast Russia — grand, with leaves unspun,

With its white birches, lakes of crystal gleam —

When I would ask it: "What is Truth, under the sun?" —

I look to classics with their quills supreme...

MY FRIEND!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

My friend! My D’Artagnan, so true and fast!

If I were Dumas, I would write your glory.

Our life is a fateful novel till the last,

And everyone breathes in to read its story.

I will not look for faith in Richelieu.

The cunning cardinal I fully banish.

Instead of silk-clad power, false and new,

You are enough for muddy paths to vanish.

With just a sword — for honor's sake alone!

With just an oath — for glory, pure and high!

A support yesterday, today a stone —

The friend remains forever, standing by!

Now one for all! And all for one, indeed!

No other motto could my soul desire!

Even with a cup of wormwood in my need,

To drink a loyal toast, fate tuned my lyre.

My friend! My D’Artagnan, so dear to me!

I hope to be your Athos in this space!

While Porthos and Aramis, wild and free,

With yearning share my high and heavenly grace!

LOVE ONE ANOTHER!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Love one another! Everything beside

As meaning has long ceased to burn and glow.

In inglorious oblivion quickly hide

Success and power, money, properties below.

And happiness for thousand reasons grand

We search for in the places where it’s not,

And then – after the robbed years of our land –

Grief presses us to knees within our lot.

In illusions, compromises, and vows made,

The days now freeze with their conceited ice.

Having jumped our highest bars that we had laid –

We fence ourselves with low hurdles, not wise.

And the north wind keeps blowing with no peace,

In endless doubts and jealousies untold.

While torn emotions are devoured and cease

By force that howls like wolves into the cold…

We lose ourselves in nights of anxious care,

And cheap makeup conceals our daily track.

For simple things – we’re complex everywhere,

And from forgiving pain, we hold it back.

Is it a mold? A grim deceit so deep,

But this wild world is racing like a dream.

And having started for the truest match to keep

We cannot even step outside the stream…

Having leapt past comforts and each heavy bar

To warm up features that have faded out –

For maybe still there wander, young and far,

Unborn and uncreated dreams of doubt.

Love one another! Time is running low,

And dross for journeys is of no amount.

And only he whose love is true and slow

Could double up his life on Earth's account!

LIVE ME, O LOVE!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Live me, O love! Long live me through your days!

Thirst for my soul from future years that gleam.

For some impossible jubilee that stays,

Where feelings turn to pictures in a dream.

And in the silver threads of hair, the mind

Begins to echo memory's old track…

Live me within the warmth that embers find,

When final coals burn out and fade to black.

Do not smooth down the wrinkles deep and wide.

They are but rivers with dried-up, hard beds.

Live me! To overflow with rolling tide,

Although their salt stays hidden where it treads.

Tie all the seasons in a single knot.

Do not gaze back at youth that flew away.

Though heavy with the age that is our lot –

Live me, as if I were a minster gray.

Bright rays will pass into your soul and gleam,

And winds that suddenly have gone and died.

The world, just like an acorn, bitter will seem,

With missed-out meetings, partings cast aside.

But you, still gentle, live me as you must,

And let me be your autumn potion, bright –

For that single moment, when Holy Chrism and trust

Shall seal our final faith and confession's light.

And somewhere, in the stars on night’s dark dome,

Two shadows will find eternity anew…

Live me, O love! Life's Meaning in its home

Still whispers softly that it’s Me and You!

PINOCCHIO

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Do you recall the ancient story told

About a boy assembled out of wood?

His master breathed a ray of faith so bold –

A miracle in nature, bright and good.

The timid little creature made a start

To get to know this world so wide and grand –

How man is born to love with all his heart

And fights to find a friend in every land.

Pinocchio was a puppet, fair and fine,

Who could walk out without a single thread.

In crowded halls, he’d make the audience shine –

To thieves and rich men, laughter he would spread.

In some terrible, causeless turn of fate,

He soon became a target for all bad.

The tremor of his innocence so great

Suffered from blamed and guilty faults he had.

Both greed and fraud had grabbed him in their stride.

Traps and deceits had tripped his steps away.

And the poor wood within its tragic tide

Knew that his life was heavy day by day.

But with a tiny, single flame of love,

He started walking toward the dark-blue sea.

To save his father, looking up above –

Even if death should set his spirit free.

Into the whale’s terrifying womb

Pinocchio had dived, troubled and deep,

To test his love inside that monstrous gloom

And break the captive hold it wished to keep…

Do you recall the ancient story told

About the wood that turned into a boy?

Perhaps it is repeating, clear and old,

To draw us to its wisdom and its joy?

Love reads us through with its consuming fire.

Let us now catch its word and make it turn.

Perhaps a piece of wood holds our desire –

The secret truth that we were made to burn…

THROUGH TIME

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Through time I passed just like a verse is spun,

Born from the wounds that never found a heal.

I cured the pain of grieving souls undone.

I touched sad hearts, scattered and unreal.

I crossed my Rubicons, day after day.

And stretched the borders that impossible seemed.

I was Rodin’s white thinker on his way,

Gazing at anxious horizons that gleamed.

Alone I gathered feathers torn and shed.

I sewed them into wings – Daedalus, I guess.

And I could understand where birds were led,

Why they fly high in skies of golden bless.

I filled my hands with seashells from the shore –

The pearly tenderness that oceans start.

Why, where, how long, when did it open more –

Each answer found its shelter in my heart.

By ancient pathways tempted and enticed –

I looked for limits in the wood and stone.

And in an old, wise parable sufficed –

Like a bright lamp with burning flame alone.

I gave myself away – just like a rock

Turned into sand by waves that strike the shore.

Feathers and shells, the fire’s burning shock

Filled all my days with meaning evermore.

Through time I passed just like a verse is spun.

Upon my knees – before the wisdom past.

I do not know if self-forgiveness won,

But God’s own pardon is eternal and will last.

FROM THE CRADLE TO THE GRAVE

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Pearl Seeker)

Carried within a mother’s womb so deep,

A mortal man is born into this space,

And from the cradle to the grave we creep,

Advancing slowly in our aging pace.

He learns the gentleness of tight embraces,

And feels his father's blessing and his care,

Drinking pure drafts of joy from many places,

Prepared for new delights that time may bear.

In youth, he rejoices in his health and might,

Within a heart that beats with strength so bold,

And he becomes a shelter in the night

For a fragile baby body he can hold.

He whistles through his fate with happy mind,

For it appears a horizon with no end,

And every future fortune he can find

Feels like a piece of heaven to descend.

But once he reaches the determined crest,

He starts to fade under the sorrow’s weight,

Because his age has stolen from his chest

The burning spark that made his fire great.

The hair turns grey beneath the silver light,

In its quiet, sunset shadow of decay,

And it’s too late for glory and for might,

In life so weary, pained along the way.

Yet a great miracle could still unroll

In some unique, irreplaceable sign,

If man decides to educate his soul,

Like Nicodemus from the old design…

In times of darkness and of anxious dread,

With living faith within his chest reborn,

He understood that even from the dead

An old man can be born into the morn…

Carried within God's womb, a saint is born,

To enter this wide world of sin and shame,

To fight the raging malice and the thorn

With all the Power of Love’s holy flame.

And on a path – from Alpha to Omega, true,

With eyes awake, standing on watchful post,

To enter crucified the Ark anew,

Of the resurrected Christ, our Heavenly Host.

This is the greatest Wisdom and the flame,

Which I can offer for your soul to keep –

To let the heart of human call the Name,

Shouting to Last Adam through the deep.

For earthly life is short, a brief design,

But the Eternal leaves its holy trace

In the most wonderful and fresh outline,

Born of the Living Water and His Grace.

AN OPEN BOOK

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

The deaf can see me, but they do not hear.

The blind can hear me, but they cannot see.

The fleshly rage with malice and with fear.

The weak offend in helpless misery.

Between the anvil and the hammer's blow,

I bear the heavy strikes that time has brought.

I do not judge the fallen here below.

The fading light I have not quenched or fought.

I wear no mask upon my human face,

And ask no share of someone else's fame.

If I lack bread – I'll seek the Father’s grace.

If I possess – no surplus keeps my name.

I do not hold the debts that humans owe,

And seek no speck within a brother’s eye.

I pay for all my errors as I go,

And swallow bitter cups without a sigh.

The secrets of my life I have unbound –

How to be full or starve within the shade.

The freezing ones my warming fire found.

The poor received the offering I made.

I do not mourn, on dunghills cast away,

And do not flinch, a target in the night.

I have my Faith, my Hearth along the way!

I have my Sun, my Universe so bright!

If I’m a traveler – the Path will end.

If I’m a wretch – it’s only for a space.

Let what is written now on me descend!

Let what is sought accept me in its grace!

The fate is wondrous. Like a song it flies.

Its music notes by Someone Else are penn'd.

I did not live for easy, carefree skies,

But for the Cross that did from heaven descend.

And in this world, this is enough for me.

The earned interest is up there, high above.

Inside my soul, the Open Book, you see –

The Lord is reading it with smiles of love…

SUNK DOWN LIKE A STONE

(A poetic memory of the movie that shook 

my heart with the Spirit of the message below)

By Yasen Vedrin
(The Pearl Seeker)

Whenever Titanic in its pride
Slam-crashes into hills of ice,
While worlds with hate and bans inside
Are seized by fury and by vice,

Within your heart keep a white rose,
And guard it there, alive and bright,
Even when threats and danger close
From freezing waves within the night.

You’ll probably stay down inside
A third-class cabin, foul and grey,
With no fine company at side,
With rum and chocolate on display,

Yet still, the spring of Love will flow,
And you will be like Jack tonight,
Prepared to call to Rose below,
In casual tuxedo dressed so bright.

The world will break and split in two
From iron plates of heavy size.
The wealthy man won't dry for you
A single tear within his eyes.

Not even a life-saving vest
Will save his soul from what is won,
If he prefers what greed confessed –
To grace a marriage with a stone.

But for your rose of purest white,
Fight on until your final breath,
For if it saves its holy light –
You’ve won the sky above the death.

And even, mortal midst the tide,
Sunk down into the freezing sea,
The highest heavens, opened wide,
Will pull you to the stars to be.

Whenever Titanic in its pride
Slam-crashes into hills of ice –
Let just one single Love abide,
It has the Covenant's high price.

And its divine, eternal flame
Marks Heaven's gates with what is true:
The one who sunk like stones of shame,
Arises, shining in the blue!

A LOVE AT THIRTY-THREE!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

With passing years, a man begins to age,

And time can never push its shadows back.

All that remains upon the history's page

Permits no twist or turning of the track.

But still, my burning spirit shines and free

With a pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

Without a doubt, this human life will end,

Pre-drawn for all the mortals here below.

Born like a stream that beautiful descend,

Into the ocean it will finally flow.

And there, may God reward it, wild and free,

With a pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

To be so young is transient, fleeting joy,

For just a moment pleasing every sense.

Even the arrow, flying like a toy,

Falls down from skies, failing its high defense.

Yet a great dream could rule and reign with glee

With a pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

Each dying seed is resurrected, born,

When sacrificed inside its dark clay womb.

Choosing Eternity instead of being torn,

With breaths from Eden, far beyond the tomb.

Because inside, it fully will decree

A pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

The life appears before the human eye,

Like a great wonder with a spirit unknown.

Three different parts connect beneath the sky –

A child, a youth, an old man grey and lone.

Yet only in one part does Spirit flee

Like a pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

Of all the men upon this earthly ground –

God gave us One – to shine with holy light.

He carried all our guilt, in chains unbound,

To purchase us, forgiving in the night.

And on the Cross, He won the victory

With a pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

Go follow Him, to Covenant be true,

And He will show you heights you've never known.

With Him you'll shine like comets in the blue,

While darkness flees from where your light is thrown.

So in the end, it will enlighten thee –

A pure Love that stands at thirty-three.

THE LEGEND OF THE NAKED TRUTH

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Pearl Seeker)

A ancient legend let me tell,

About the Truth within our land.

Like paintings in Hermitage dwell,

She drew all hearts into her hand.

She was enchantingly so fair,

Dressed in a veil of golden light.

Wise, filled with truth beyond compare,

An ideal, pure, and Holy bright.

A sister she possessed, though low,

Rejected, with no roof or home.

Her eyes held heaviness and woe,

Her heart – no Holy Law to own.

From all her words, so strangely wrong,

The human spirits lost their spark.

No happiness could move along,

When meeting her grim face and dark.

They called her Lie in ancient days,

And drove her to the forest deep.

No one would trust her crooked ways,

Or give their soul for her to keep.

"O sister! – cried the Lie aloud –

Pour some fresh water in my jar.

My lips are dry beneath this cloud,

My fading heart is parched so far.

Go down into the well, my dear,

And scoop up just two palms for me,

For I am parched with thirst and fear,

And I may die here, as you see.

Take off your golden, radiant dress.

Most carefully I'll guard it now,

And silver water from recess

Give me to drink, to fulfill my vow…"

Confused, the Holy Truth withdrew

A single step in doubt and dread,

For words of cold, untruthful view

From Lie’s dark lips were quickly spread.

But still, her wretched sister there

She looked upon with love so deep,

And with a childlike, naive care,

Accepted her text for to keep.

Into the well she went, unclad,

Holding a jar within her hand.

And thus her heart was pierced and sad,

The gentle Truth across the land.

Her sister in the golden gown

Fled deep into that ancient wood,

And like an actress in the town,

Made all the world misobserved, withstood.

They trusted her – both old and young,

And placed her high upon a throne,

To hear the speeches from her tongue,

And trample God’s Law, left alone.

And naked, Holy Truth until this day,

Whispers, rejected by the crowd,

While only in a few she stays,

Trembling with rays beneath the cloud.

ETERNAL FOR ETERNITY!

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Eternity behind a veil is hidden

From human eyes of mortal clay and dust.

In it, a prison for the rogue is bidden,

And for the wretch – a beam of light and trust.

It is a new beginning when we perish.

A fateful leap the spirit has to take.

Existence – between black and white we cherish.

An end – that God or devil has to make.

How each prepares for what is coming later

Is every mortal’s choosing and their way.

Between the Son of God and the betrayer

The world is split and divided today.

The destiny has drawn a line so slender

Before the Heaven’s Life that will endure,

But creation fails its logic to surrender

And bets on earthly roots to feel secure.

From Adam’s clay to Rock that will not shiver,

A heavy price is paid for every name –

A Holy Offering from the Great Giver,

For man born in the Christ’s eternal flame.

If by the Rock you find yourself attracted,

And for the Truth you stand forever brave –

Then for Eternity you are Eternal, transacted,

Triumphant over death and over grave…

A WISE LESSON

By Yasen Vedrin

(Pearl Seeker)

Let every man be guided by this lesson, wise and grand –

The path we walk will always lead us to the Father’s hand.

And like a river, wild and deep, time flows and races joyed,

Though between the old man and the boy a lifetime is deployed.

How you have clothed your naked soul – beyond you’ll truly know.

The finest linen is the Saint. The lust – a corpse below.

The Cross – an image without time. The silver coin – a pit.

By how a mortal man is dressed – for Christ or Hell he’s fit…

And in this world, it’s worth it all to bear the Evil’s spite.

Even if the wicked rules, sustained by lies and might.

A Judgment Day will part the souls to worlds of different kinds.

The Heaven holds a peaceful bed; the deep, the beast unblinds…

Today the man must learn himself through dark and blinding light,
That for his soul’s eternal fate, a Price was paid in might.

And there beyond, no human soul can pay for any cost.

But here, Golgotha loudly calls to save the sinner lost…