On Golgotha, Mother of God, You stood at the foot of the Tree of the Cross, where Your Son was Crucified, and, striking, The soul of the grieving Mother The sword of mortal agony pierced. How He died, Your tender Son, Alone, hopeless, Your eyes saw… Do not reject me, O Virgin! Let me also stand at the Tree, Stained in blood, For you see - the heart thirsts To suffer as Your Son suffers. Virgin of virgins, spring of love, Let me drink in the pain of wounds, Enjoy the torment of the Cross, The torment of Your Son; So that, burning with the fire of love, And languishing, and dying, I may see the glory of paradise In the death of my God....(Russian poet of the Silver Age )
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Thank you, Judy!
On Golgotha, Mother of God,
You stood at the foot
of the Tree of the Cross, where Your Son was
Crucified, and, striking,
The soul of the grieving Mother
The sword of mortal agony pierced.
How He died, Your tender Son,
Alone, hopeless,
Your eyes saw…
Do not reject me, O Virgin!
Let me also stand at the Tree,
Stained in blood,
For you see - the heart thirsts
To suffer as Your Son suffers.
Virgin of virgins, spring of love,
Let me drink in the pain of wounds,
Enjoy the torment of the Cross,
The torment of Your Son;
So that, burning with the fire of love,
And languishing, and dying,
I may see the glory of paradise
In the death of my God....(Russian poet of the Silver Age )