THE FINAL MEANING

By Yasen Vedrin 

(Gold Coins in the Oak Chest)

These summers of mine – like the water-buffaloes, old and resigned,
How long they have plowed through our hopes with the sharp, iron blade...
But the colorful dreams yet unlived have been left far behind,
As if I had prayed for another to find their warm shade.

The downpours of rain have rushed out. In the spring, in the autumn, and heat.
The thunders have crashed with their lightning and short-living trace.
While my soul counted all of its tears – offered at God’s own feet,
To make His pure waters burst out... Holy rivers of grace!

My hair became white, as if branded and seared by the heavy white frost,
And the dry, barren river of call cut its wrinkles in clay.
My faith became bent from the load that it carried, exhausted and lost,
But it didn't trample its duty beneath Christ’s own Cross on the way.

I didn't live to that day, which was set for a miracle find.
Perhaps I refused to give up my whole soul on the altar to rise.
And inside the future there still remain dreams that must die in the mind,
To bring Resurrection and life to my gift in the skies.

These summers of mine – like the water-buffaloes, old and resigned,
How long they have plowed... And a field is still waiting ahead!
Let me drive them once more with my eyes that are sleepless and blind,
For the ultimate meaning – that His was the life that I led.

A COVENANT LESSON

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Bird Inside You)

Now listen to words that are faithful and grand,

And let them become your past Covenant Guide.

The people who love have a heart to command,

Because they are moved by God’s Hand on their side.

In trouble – they’re merciful; in blessings – they give,

They set hearts on fire and touch human fates.

In their own secret pathways they choose how to live,

Far away from the praise that the earthly man states.

They gather up treasures in Heaven’s safe chest,

And no one feels damage from love that is pure.

With prayers and songs they fight grief for the best,

And their heavy fight is a cross to endure.

By Goodness they're drawn, and by Faith they are bound.

Along the steep pathway they leave out a trace.

Above all the slanders and hates they are found,

And they always swim where live waters find place.

They are words of the Lord, and they’re white loaves of bread.

A call from Mount Zion smells sweet from their deed.

And bright, holy borders inside souls are spread

Close to the Great King on His Throne for our need.

The people who love are the Seed that is blest,

Which brought to our God the most glorious Fruit –

To manifest Christ at the time of behest

And inside His Love and His Life to take root.

WHEN I IN PEACE WITH GOD REMAIN…

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Bird Inside You)

To lie is something I can’t do,

But follow Justice on my track –

When I in Peace with God remain,

With devils I am in attack.

There is no way on Earth for me

To keep a neutral, passive face.

The Lord accursed the snake to be,

And I don't want that dark disgrace.

As much and closely as I can

To Evil I will stand as shield.

To reconcile the God with man –

This is my bright and open field.

To be the Word for many souls

Became my destiny and sight.

And with a Sword – for sacred goals

To always enter Holy fight.

My hands are heavy with fatigue

From following Christ Jesus' way,

And Aaron and Hur within my league

I seek for brotherly love today.

But in this century they are gone.

They were renowned in ancient past.

And traders in the Temple zone

Are the last Amalek at last.

But God remains my Banner still

And always will be just as grand –

A burning flame my heart to fill,

A Lion in my spirit's land.

I stay His own, by no constraint,

But through Covenant, Choice, and Faith.

Bearing each strike without complaint –

Denied, blasphemed in every breath.

But still Zarephath's widow, kind,

Will give my spirit love untold,

For in her humble mite I find

That Christ is reigning as of old.

What of it? In the future days I smile

From peaks of Holy mountains high…

When I in Peace with God remain,

With devils I am in attack.

THE GREEN MILE (MY CREDO)

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Bird Inside You)

(In memory of Michael Clarke Duncan, who played 

John Coffey in the movie "The Green Mile")

At last this prison lock will have an end,

And far beyond my flying soul will stride.

But let the unavoidable descend

While on my own Green Mile I watch and bide.

Having overcome the darkness, chains, and bars –

To be right there where plague destroys the land,

Where God’s own love seems missing from the stars,

And Mercy has no comforting, warm hand.

Does a bright flash of lightning ever die,

That cuts across the heavens with its ray?

Is it not summer for frozen ones nearby,

And pardon for cold eyes along the way?

While angels dance their waltz up in the skies,

And in their beauty, thrills the moment’s light –

John, is it not worthwhile, before it flies,

To walk my own Green Mile into the night?

And to give everything away – to breath and song.

Left with no single thing. Barefoot and bare.

Even immortalized and ghostlike, strong,

Right at the electric chair's final flare.

At last this prison fades and slips away,

And to the everlasting flies the mind.

While down below – in wonder's overflow and play,

The life from my Green Mile is left behind...

JUDAH BEN-HUR

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Bird Inside You)

(a verse for the movie that changed my life)

The snow-white horses are still racing fast

Before Messala’s chariot of the night.

O, Lord! For just a single moment past

Be in my graying soul a ray of light...

Be like a sip of water in dry heat,

While my heavy chain is burning still on me...

To know, O Christ, You are my safe retreat,

When faith can’t reach my lips to set me free...

Be like a call thrown out of sorrow's span,

Throughout my heavy galley fate and thread.

To house true love instead of vengeance, man,

Forgiving foes from yesterday instead...

Be to me blood from Cross! And be a trace

Along the dusty pathways of Judea...

To remember Bethlehem’s bright star of grace,

Which saved my spirit from the dark idea.

The snow-white horses are still racing fast

Before Messala’s chariot of the night.

An open heaven shines in me at last

With one white hand, pierced through with sacred light.

THE FAILURE AND THE SENTENCE

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Rise of the Fall)

The failure rests in Judas’ silver purse.

The sentence – within Pilate’s washing bowl.

And every ugly, calculated curse

Wears Holy Grace to mask its dirty soul.

The business goes on quietly and well.

There are as many traders as you please,

Even when beggars inside sighs must dwell

For small coins from the dressed-up corpse to tease.

No one will scare them with a whip of cords.

The stalls are piled up, endless in their line…

And silver pieces, like the Blood of Lords,

Ring with their furious pirouette divine.

Foul is the swamp, filled up and overflowing,

Adorned with labels like an "Eden" space.

A class, so gospel-wealthy in their showing,

Foresees their God from fatness in its place…

In an idyll, beloved by the crowd,

Both shepherds and the flocks are blessed and free.

But in the realm where fast cash makes them proud,

The Evil bodeful shapes the catastrophe.

Both dogma and doctrine clank with heavy chains.

From pulpits, moldy words begin to fall.

The true sin stays where Mary Magdalene reigns,

And not inside that Judas' gut and all…

Christ’s people, cast away with exiled fate,

Wander their hell in sackcloth, cold and sad.

The failure rests in Judas’ silver purse.

The sentence – within Pilate’s washing bowl.

THE FINAL VESUVIUS

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Rise of the Fall)

Vesuvius roars and swells in size

Amidst the clouds of sulfurous breath.

The boiling lava starts to rise

Deep in the mountain’s vaults of death.

Below the volcano's dark dome,

The crowds, abandoned to their sin,

Hear not the threat above their home,

Nor fear the Lord who looks within.

They raise the golden calves to view

In their abominable bow,

And in vain noise, accursed too,

To Mammon they give glory now.

Beside them – with iron spears ahead –

The earthly beasts rejoice and cry,

And rage from hell’s abysses fed

Calls them for bloody fights nearby.

Throughout the vale – the chaff is found,

All gathered up in bundles high.

Vesuvius roars above the ground,

Above the Earth's foul corpse nearby.

It roars. And soon it will explode

With its merciless, angry blast.

And doom will strike the evil road

When that fierce blast erupts at last.

For now, when reaching out to save,

A hand of Mercy and Love appears,

They beat the pure ones with a stave,

And throw the faithful to their tears.

Alas, to Justice they are blind,

Captured by giants of the night.

The thorn and greedy burdock bind

Below the peak of blinding might.

“Depart from Me, you cursed race!” –

They’ll hear from a Voice so grand.

And everyone will feel fire's place,

With judgment in their hour at hand.

And sealed by lava's heavy state,

Ready to turn them into stone,

They will recall their earthly fate

And all their empty days alone.

But I pray Thee! Heal and save,

O Lord, the sinful souls in fright!

For if You thunder like Vesuvius’ wave,

The dark won't soothe them in the night…

THE ULTIMATE BANDIT

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Rise of the Fall)

Do not look on with angry eyes

At the elite that knows no law.

All other bandits shrink in size

Before the master bandit's claw.

No mortal flesh can push his space,

No speeding bullet pierces through.

He acts from his dark, evil place,

Upon a throne of crime anew.

Within his hand, the kings are pawns.

All wars are earthly vanity.

He snaps humanity like thorns

When driving them to death's decree.

Dressed in a mantle of deceit,

He has a grand repertoire to show.

As Temple angel, pure and sweet,

Or spins just like a die below.

With power held through thousand years,

He builds his pressure on our clay.

He rules with armies full of jeers

To throw all human souls away.

He purchases consciences and thrones.

He trades in secrets of deep sin.

He plays foul parts in filthy zones

And calls himself a saint within.

But in his nature there remains

A ultimate weakness, a fierce dread,

For he's a snake in fragile chains,

Once Jesus' Holy Name is said…

And when the Sword strikes through his space,

Polished with Justice – Sacred, bright,

He falls upon his knees in disgrace,

Just like a rag, stripped of his might.

And let the Faithful know and see

That God has sent the Spirit's Gift,

From Which in darkness weeps in knee

The beast accursed, with no uplift.

All other bandits shrink in size

Before the master bandit's claw,

But Holiness stands past the skies,

And there's a Sword of fearsome law.

If you swing it with Faith in Christ,

You pierce the gloom and shadows gray,

And like a shadow sacrificed,

The bandit Satan fades away.

PARABLE OF THE TREES

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Rise of the Fall)

The trees assembled once into the wood.

They wished to have a king to rule their space.

The most majestic near and far he stood,

Whose name would be praised high in every place.

“Come, Fig Tree, come! Become our reigning king!

For there is none like you inside our land.

Your sweet, rich fruit will soothe the grief we bring.

You are the greatest, worthy to command.”

“I shall not leave my juicy, tender fruit!” –

The Fig Tree answered to the crowded wood.

“To serve and give is Life in my pursuit,

But earthly power revolts me where I stood.”

“Come, Olive Tree! Reign high above our ground!

Where can we find another like your form?

Within your Holy Oil a ray is found!

From North to South your value keeps us warm!”

“I will not rule with berries from my branch!” –

The Olive answered with a Holy grace.

“One God bestows the Light that none can quench!

Without Him, there's no Meaning in this place!”

“Come, sunny Vine, and reign above our space!

And let the wine into our cups be poured!

Become our queen with boundless power and grace,

The woods will pride in thrones you can afford!”

“I would not hold my grapes inside the clay!” –

The Vine had told them with a charming voice.

“Not every wine creates a vain display,

But passions look for ends by their own choice.”

The trees then withered in a nightmare deep.

Above them, no one wished to rule or reign.

Where could they find a master they could keep,

Whose mortal price would not be spent in vain...

They found him... Bramble! Thorny unto death!

In swarms of restless, wild mosquitoes bound.

Sucking up poisons with a mole’s dark breath,

Scratching and piercing everyone around.

“Come, terrifying one! Become our king!

Piercing us with your ominous, sharp thorn!

The voice of every creature cries to spring!

We pray you, Bramble, rule us from this morn!

In this sly world become our earthly share,

Until our clay within the dust decays!

For this is our last state and grim despair –

That you’re in us, and we are in your ways...”

MADAME PRIDE!

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

Madame Pride! I’m leaving you today!

Your fine, sophisticated drink I scorn.

With tiny sips of passion, as a prey,

You captured me; in Hell was Heaven born.

I used to wish your words would overflow,

And even wanted your stage-managed crown.

Upon your face no stain of sin would show,

You were a pure Madonna in my town.

What kind of blinded impulse did I find

To follow you, as quiet as a sigh?

Why was I weak before your words and mind,

Bound by your magic leash beneath the sky?

From all the brilliant glare your dishes start,

My soul forgot the place where it was born.

Those brothers who are wandering apart,

Whom nobody will praise or ever mourn.

Wretches and dogs in heavy mud that stay.

Even tramps who dig into the cinder pile...

...I choked upon an orange slice today.

I cannot drink your cocktail all the while.

Your glass made out of colored glass and light

I do not want before my pupils clear.

Even if I have a lineage, lost from sight –

With open covers I am standing here.

Inside my soul I’ll weep out every groan.

I’ll wipe away the tears of those in need.

Madame Pride! Farewell! No bow or throne!

Before your face my spirit shall not bleed!

GO SINK INTO THE GROUND!

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

I do not play at dice with the Deceiver.

Do not assume this choice is just a right.

Once his authoritative die gets over –

It pulls and binds so many in its might.

And afterwards – just like a stringed puppet

The captured man betrays his own poor heart.

To be a living corpse where dead men sit,

And look as if his death became his part.

I would not ask great Goethe for advice –

How Mephistopheles tempts with his art,

But it’s enough my head through sacrifice

Refused a crown of fame for thorns apart.

And not for even one single moment’s trace

Will I whisper a call in demonic chaos.

And in the claws of that old cynic’s face

I will not be the learned doctor Faust.

Why is that so? Because I’m simple-born,

And simplicity holds me in its wonder.

The absinthe of my guest, whom I now scorn,

I would not sip for any price or plunder.

He holds a contract in his fingers high,

But with no seal from Christ's own Blood divine...

“...Absorb with thrills each calculated lie!

And lick the poison from your lips like wine!

I can bestow this world to be your gain.

Become your halo and your dark enigma.

Be like a nail to me! With you in pain

To burn within the holes of God’s own stigma...”

No, devil! Your accursed and wicked die

I do not want for fate and blinded madness.

You turned the world into a flea market high,

Where filthy crowds look at your stalls with gladness.

Though you are king of rulers in this land,

In your charisma of deceit and shame –

I do not play at dice with your own hand!

Go sink into the ground, from where you came!

THE LOCKSMITH

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

Bustle. Noise. A chaotic crowd.

Everyone is trying to go first.

At a stall – within a gloomy cloud –

Sells the devil locks to feed his thirst.

“Come on, people! Keep inside the line!

Goods have been delivered for you all.

Only let me see, in order fine,

All your hands reaching toward my stall.

Oh, dear lady! Heart dressed up in lace!

Put it on the scale right away!

And you will receive from me a space –

Just the lock that fits you for today.

Safety, is it? Please, madame, don't cry!

You are making me out loud to laugh.

Once I lock your shame and keep it dry –

You will be a fairy on my staff.

You will never suffer from any need,

Nor from grief and filthy charity.

But your brand-new world will be indeed

Like an Eden, with no scarcity.

Look, how easy is it! Isn't that so?

Next one please... Well done, my dear sir!

You are used to let your heart pain grow,

But it's better if it grows colder.

Scruples, did you say? By God! Oh, no!

Hell’s own guarantee is what you gain!

Even an orphan kneeling down below

Will bring laughter. Not a bit of pain!

Key, you ask? Yes! But it stays with me!

Every lock is sold locked from the start.

Thus eternal captive life you'll see,

And a happy living as your part.

Hey, young man! Are you here coming too?

Splendid! So young, yet you want my task!

With a heart that beats like hammers do,

Building up the monument I ask...

Cool, you say? What are you talking? Look!

Super you will be beneath my shield!

Your bright future now is off the hook

With this devilish purchase in your field!”

Bustle. Noise. A chaotic crowd.

Padlocks. Tombs where final death is spun.

Hiding in the ominous, dark cloud

Goes the devil with man’s hearts undone...

A COPPER BOWL

By Yasen Vedrin

(The Copper Bowl)

I saw a strange thing in my sleeping,

Jesus disguised as a poor man.

Beside a rich man’s doorstep keeping

A comfortless and grieving span.

He stretched his hands to beg for living,

Holding a little copper bowl.

Without answers, without giving

A question if you’re good or foul...

And look – the heavy door is creaking.

Out comes a rich man in a hat.

Like horses, up his head is peeking,

He looks at gray skies, cold and flat.

He goes to buy a paper, walking.

Should he now take a brolly high?

A moment later, near his stalking,

A copper bowl gleams in his eye.

“Oh, just a little mercy, mister!

A tiny coin from your own soul!”

“No! Not for you, you filthy blister!

I’m sick of begging hands that stroll!

Get out of here! You smell like rot!

You crawled from some deep, dirty hole!

Can’t you see written on this spot –

This home is model as a whole?”

With furious eyes after this talking,

The evil wealthy man is bound

To buy a paper from his walking,

With his favorite reportage found.

The beggar Jesus takes a flight

Just like an angel, on the fly.

The heavens hide Him in a bright

And prayerful rain with tearful sky.

Inside a bar, the man is seating,

He opens papers with a smile...

Sips from his coffee while he's eating

A sweet croissant to pass the while...

The rainy weather wakes me inside.

I leave the house, no brolly high.

To find a beggar on the curbside,

With a copper bowl passing by...

To recognize inside my keeping

The longing of the Good God's heart!

I want no more while world is weeping,

A doomed and cruel world from start!

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!