narrow vigil
If you can, don't rush the birth anymore,
There, in heaven... fall on your knees to the Lord,
This century is not for children.
They are either killed by their mothers by abortion,
Or they die on the battlefield.
And if you still don't stop being stubborn...
You will be like a wild horse,
Do you want to run in the fields of wheat...
They will tame your stubborn nature with a bridle of thorns,
Because in the fields, instead of sunflowers and wheat,
Today tongues of fire are raging...
Instead of twigs, birch trees are torn by bullets
And on wheat fields Grenades of different varieties and origins
Are thrown like seeds...
Only death will emerge from them tomorrow...
Don't be born, conceived by violence,
War brings more war
Now in this field instead of morning breeze
Fields of wheat must be caressed,
But even it was fed up with this slaughterhouse
And at the soul-stirring fires, the murderers tremble,
Afraid to look up, because above them
The souls of the dead swing and swing like a pendulum.
And above that... full of their sins, the book of judgment
Has become so heavy that it will slip
From the hand of the lord of beings and will tear the earth in half...
Please wait... Angels,
Why are you in a hurry to be born in this sinful, cruel world...
I'm begging you, I'm begging you not to rush the birth!
And if you still don't change your mind
And you will act like mustangs
That run stubbornly across the wide fields,
Hold each other's hands tightly,
Break all the bridles, whips...
Throw away the saddles
And... come here!!!
Author:Bela Qeburia
Translator: Aleksandre Kakhidze
royal flame