A monastery grows from the songs

Written by: Ovidiu Bocsa

A monastery grows from the songs of its strange crew,
Monastery painted with blue of unique Voronezh blue 
And a new comer, blond icicle, bare footed, gnarled 
Deaf and mute -it is said -singing “Have mercy, God!”

Stalactite and stalagmite in their cells, monks and nuns
Some of them so innocent like the sober day that runs;
Hanged from the heaven of their great expectations held
From the glass dawn to noon singing:“Have mercy, God!”

The others in their rusty autumn or white winter,
All calling the Promised Land that started to glitter
In their heart and from this light the sky seems fired
And the forest`s echo repeated: “Have mercy, God!”

In the twilight mist two monks try to cut down 
The evergreen tree to bring it for kids in the town;
Children glide on sleigh and even tired go later to bed.
They learnt carols and angels sing “Have mercy, God!”