Ольга Савельева

Я преподаю английский язык в вузе, пишу стихи на русском и на английском языках. Опубликованы две книги на английском языке в Великобритании (г. Манчестер), обе посвящены религиозным темам (Genesis in Verse, Once before the Flood).
Свою новую книгу я задумала написать о России, и тоже на английском языке, имея целью рассказать зарубежным читателям о славном духовном наследии нашей страны, о подвигах и деяниях святых, которые способствовали не только просвещению языческих народов и единению нации, но и духовному воспитанию своих современников.

религиозная эпопея «Men of God: Russia’s holy history»


…The following true story tells

About a noble princess,

Eudocia. When she excels

In studies, kin convinces

The empress Catherine to accept

Her as a waiting lady.

So, in her early age she stepped

On porch the palace, aiding

The empress. And her special care

Was to dispel her boredom.

Some years’d passed since the girl was there,

When once her daily order

Felt to be wrong and pointless. So,

She, and two ladies, faked

Their getting drowned. No one could know

They’d fled then for the sake

Of serving God. So, poorly dressed,

Her riches sacrificed,

She worked in convents, and was blessed

To be a fool-for- Christ.

She dwelled at convent in a hut,

Wore chains under the frock,

Walked barefoot, short her hair was cut,

And dwelled she with a flock

Of poultry, also cats and dogs.

She used the stove in summers,

Whereas in winters frosty fogs

Were in her shack. Large numbers

Of herbs and mushrooms did she pick

In woods at day-time, while

At night Eudocia took her stick,

Sang psalms and walked a mile.

She cured the sick, deprived or rich,

With herbs she picked in wood.

For prayers she chose the chapel, which

Stood in the neighbourhood.

When a new abbess came, hostile

Towards the fool, and jealous,

There was oppression, then exile.

Supported by her zealous

Esteemer Natalie, she slipped

From convent, left that spot

For place Klupanovo. Equipped

And big a house she got.

The fool, however, drove a cow

Inside that big estate,

While she herself was settled now

In servants’ shack with eight

Domestic pets. Eudocia, who

Was known as Euphrosyne,

Then travelled, staying at her true

Esteemers. As a sign

Of awe, one man built up with care

A cell in his own yard.

And Euphrosyne dwelled sometimes there,

And slept in coffin hard.

She prayed secluded in ravine

Beside the river’s bank,

And dug a well with water clean,

And all the sick, who drank

And got her blessing, those turned well.

And many men came there

To see the saint where she would dwell,

And get advice and care.

When aged, stood Euphrosyne one day

On porch beside her shed,

When suddenly she turned to say

To nurse: “See there ahead?

Two angels dressed in white just came

Out of the church’s gate,

And they are calling me by name

And tell me, that they wait

For me to join them”. When the folk

Knew that the saint foresaw

Her nearest death, it soon provoked

Their visits. More and more

Arrived to see her and be blessed,

And get a bagatelle.

Three times was Ephrosyne addressed

By angels, who would tell,

Her time was up. And when they came

The fourth time, then she died,

Quite calmly, and since then her name

Has been a sacred guide

To many worshipers, who come

To see her well and grave.

And many sick, and deaf, and dumb

Get cure, for which they crave…

…Once driving in a horse-drawn cart,

An old man stopped at shoer’s.

His offbeat manners gave a start

To some suspicion. Poor

And odd he looked. The shoer warned

Officials of his guest.

He was announced a tramp and scorned,

And put under arrest.

He called himself Fyodor Kuzmich,

No papers to present.

The man was whipped then with a switch

And to Siberia sent.

He asked some man to sign for him

The order, for he swore

He was illiterate. Quite dim

Was his background. The more

The other convicts and the guard

Dealt with the man, the better

They thought of him, for he tried hard

To sooth the weak. The fetter

Was not on him for all his way

To place of his exile.

Arriving there, he had to stay

In one Tomsk village. While

Fyodor was there, in solitude

He roamed, taught local kids.

The only fee he took was food,

No money – “God forbids!”

For virtuous life the old man earned

His great respect, the folk

Came for advice, and often turned

To him. The way he spoke,

His looks, some phrases of that man

Soon prompted it was true,

That Fyodor was none other, than

Tsar Alexander, who

Had lately died a sudden death

Of some disease. This fame

Spread over quickly, with the breath

Of wind, and Fyodor came

To stay indoors. And then he moved.

It didn’t stop disputes.

A lot of people tried to prove

The old man’s noble roots.

With peasants in one village he

Dwelled many years. Each weekend

He roamed on village edge, to see

A draft of convicts weakened.

He gave them alms and care. One day

He moved to one more site,

Where in a shabby shed he’d stay

And work a lot, and write.

He did his correspondence with

Some noble men, and far

Around would spread again the myth

Of Fyodor’s being tsar.

Bishops came to his far-off zone.

He spoke in French to one.

Leo Tolstoy was also known

To visit him. No one

Still heard the man speak of his past.

He said: “I don’t deny it,

That I’m autonomous at last,

And feeling free and quiet.

Once I took pains not to provoke

Men’s envy, and was grieved,

When friends deceived me. Now this yoke

Is gone, for I’ve perceived

The word of God, and love for Christ,

And charity. You hear it,

But realize not, how high-priced

Is freedom of the spirit”.

One merchant once convinced the man

To move to Tomsk house, where

He lived, and Fyodor thus began

To dwell in outhouse there.

He went to church, and prayed a lot,

But was not seen commune.

And at confessions was he not.

But they discovered soon,

He had his own confessor, and

Entrusted all to him.

To spread confession truth was banned,

So still his past is dim.

He dearly marked the holy day

Of Nevsky Alexander.

To his good friends he used to say:

“There used to be no grander

Event in Petersburg, than this.

Lights on, and fireworks,

And joy in hearts, and godly bliss,

And townsmen getting perks…”

He also spoke of wars, and lords,

Whereas his self was plain.

He wore poor clothes, slept on hard boards,

And often would abstain

From nourishing or delish food,

Preferring toasts half dried.

He prayed a lot – corns could be seen

On knees, when he had died.

When he was dying, he was at

Confession, but said not

His patron saint’s name: “God knows that!”,

Nor parents’ names: “For what?”

When died he, people worshiped him,

A virtuous man, though odd,

Whose background ever will be dim,

And future is with God…

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