In the days when the God eternal
Was declining face to the new world,
By the Word they stopped the sun-s inferno,
And destroyed the towns by the Word.

And an eagle was falling at the ground,
Stars were backing to the moon in fright,
If, as made from orange flames a cloud,
Word was sailing in the heaven-s height.

Figures were involved in low action,
As the tamed, domesticated herd,
Just because all set of comprehension
From the clever figure could be learned.

The white-bearded patriarch, wish found
Good and evil by his own hands,
Deciding not to use the sacred sound,
Drew a figure by a cane in sands.

Did we not forget in troubles own:
Only Word is blessing in the world?
In the Gospel, sent to us by John,
Is the saying, that the Word is God.

We designed for it the limits, gladly -
The scant limits of the life and thoughts,
And like bees in empty hives smell badly -
Badly smell the dead forever words.