(translated from my poem in Russian
“Пространство времени сдвигается всё уже”
http://www.stihi.ru/2014/11/04/625)
The space of Тime is shrivelling now daily.
It makes more precious the ingot of the Word
amid the icy chill of hearts, amid our failings,
amid the worldly bustle in accord
with the insanity, where values are so poor,
where there’s no recipe for cure
for a depraved wretched human soul,
where purity and truth are now odd,
but earthly pleasure is the highest goal,
which is, alas, not the delight in God.
2 November 2011