Wisdom is coming not easily:
scales fall from the eyes,
things, which had been invisible,
are losing their disguise.
Youth, so frequently frivolous,
strives for external effects.
Like butterfly in a chrysalis
wisdom can slowly flex.
Wisdom comes not to everyone.
Some - till the end of days! –
seek entertainment or any fun,
money or constant praise.
Those successes mindless
only bring pretence,
but when commitments bind us
that would infuse some sense.
Bordering on the eternity,
elderly think of the past.
Who can in all their honesty
keep what it was amassed?
Wisdom is given in suffering,
through our meekness in pain,
in circumstances disheartening,
grinding all that is vain.
Wisdom is not brainpower,
cleverness or some skill,
but in the darkest hour
asking the Lord to refill.
Vector of life is changing,
if you admit being flawed,
if you can stop complaining,
seeking the will of God.
Wisdom is in forgiving.
It's deeply rooted in love.
Wisdom is surely given
only from above.
05.05.2019
Это стихотворение есть приблизительный перевод моего стихотворения "Мудрость" http://www.stihi.ru/2019/04/24/4023