God Mother Chenstokhovskaja


(Music, the guitar, singing by Fedor  Borkovskiy.)


Side A


1. The Tsarís Testament

(Lyrics by Olga Nikolaevna, The Great Princess)


My Father asked to tell everyone

Not to weep  or  grumble.

The days of grief befell us all

To pay for our mutual grave sin.


He does not bear them the grudge himself

 Heís forgiven all his enemies,

He tells us not to revenge him on them.

But have mercy , and love everyone.


He says the world is wallowing in the evil,

The truth has vanished from the earth,

The sorrowful Cross of the future days

Will  be even more terrible and harder.


But the clock will strike , and time will come

The good will overcome the evil,

And whatever has been  lost by us

Back will be brought  by our mutual love. 



2. N. V. Gogolís Prayer

(Lyrics by N.V. Gogol)


To Thee, oh, my Holy  Mother,

I dare to address my prayer

With tears running down my face,

Please, do hear me at this mournful hour.


Do receive my warmest prayers,

Deliver my soul from  evil and  tribulations.

Pour out tender feelings upon my heart,

Show me the  way to salvation.


May I not follow my own will,

May I be ready to tolerate all  for Godís  sake,

Protect me  in my bitter lot,

And donít let me perish in grief.


Thou giveth  shelter to all the miserable,

Thou prayeth for all of us,

Do protect us when we hear

 The doomsday trumpets from the Heaven.


When the eternity closes the time,

The doomsday trumpets will raise the dead,

All the burden of my sins shall be laid bare

In the book of conscience.


Thou art the wall and  protection,

I pray to Thee with all my heart:

Save me, my  consolation,

Have  mercy on me the best way Thou can.


3. Narrow Gates

(Lyrics by Larisa Kudrjashova)


The secular world

                                            is outside the window frame.

Iím doomed to fall  many times a day.

Softly will I pray to the icon, 

With my sinful poor head bent.


Itís hard, oh, how hard it is

                                     to live  by Godís laws:

The road is crowded, the gates are narrow.

Oh, God, forgive me my humbleness,

 And cleanse me by the force of the Cross.


4. Saint Ksenija

(Lyrics by Ksenija Krivova)


Over the city of Peter the Great

Thereíre hundreds of golden crosses.

Itís with the solar  cloth that

The domesí gold  covers the saint city.


And among the elegant churches

A little chapel, like an orphan,

Is humbly standing in  the lush greenery,

       Surrounded by  gray tombs.


Crowds of people keep on coming here,

To pray  for something, Ďcause there,

In this chapel,  the Saint is  buried -

Sheíll help them to cure their wounds.


She relieves the pain of those

Who are tortured by  grief and sufferings,

They stretch their hands  to the Saintís relics;

The tombís spilled  with candlesí tears.


And the Saint hears their moans,

 She helps those who come to Her,

Even though it might be  disregarded:

ďThere was some grief once  Ė now it is gone!Ē


By sincere, hearty prayer,

Going out of the soul to the Heavens,

Through the peopleís battle with the tortures

To Godís  blessed  gifts.


Do help us all, our Saint,

 Our blessed Ksenija,

Help those hearts that pray for  Eden

Opening their souls, without concealing anything.


5. My Quiet Motherland

( Lyrics by Nicoly Rubtzov)


My quiet Motherland!

Willows, rivers, nightingales Ö

 My mother is buried here,

My childhood  was spent here, too.


ďWhere is the grave-yard? Have you seen it?

I cannot find it by myself. Ē Ė

ďItís over there on the other side,Ē

The villagers  softly replied.


The villagers replied softly,

Carts quietly passed, 

The dome of the church abode

Is grown over with grass.


Wherever I used to chase  fish

Hay is being hocked  in the loft.

Wherever  the river used to wind,

 A canal has been dug out.


There is slime and mud

Wherever I used to swim.

My quiet Motherland,

I have not forgotten anything!


A new fence is in front of the school,

And green wilderness is the same.

Like a  merry crow,

Iíll climb and sit  on the fence again!


My wooden school,

 Itíll be time to leave Ė

The foggy river, then,

Will be  running   after me.


With every hut and  cloud,

With thunder, ready to peal,

Iím feeling the most burning,

The most mortal of links!  


6. Hope

( Lyrics by Ksenija Krivova)


My God, I donít know what to tell you

On reading my fate on this sunny day,

But I do think itís useless

To grieve and weep about oneself.


I know  my life is a road,

And  my years are water,

But when I look at the stars at night,

The  sunrise at dawn , the glory of the day,

I see how fragile our  life is, 

Yet, I don't think we live in vain!


7. Prophecy

( Lyrics by Reverend Seraphim Sorovskiy)


The thunderstorm will pass all over Russia,

God will forgive the Russians their sins,

 The Saint Cross will shine with its divine beauty

All over Godís Cathedrals once again.


Godís abodes will be restored everywhere,

And the belief in God will unite us all,

 Church bell chimes will wake up Saint Russia

 From the sinful sleep to its  salvation.


The terrible adversities will pass away,

 Russia will defeat its enemies,

And the name of the Russian great people

Will thunder out all over the Universe!


8. The Golgotha Of Great Russia

( Lyrics by an unknown poet)


Where hard boulders

 Lie heavy on the Urals hills,

Where eagles soar in the clouds,

There the Golgotha of Great Russia is.


In 1918 the  Russians got mad,

They committed the bloodiest crime:

Letting butchers shoot dead

 Their  Tsar and  his wife,

With their family all  together.


In the daytime, breeze blows there, 

 Prophetic crows crow above,

 At noon there comes a deer.

To hide  from the heat

Under cool shadows of  the trees.


But when  the night falls down,

The Emperor and His folks

Arise out of their grave

And tread along the  stony roads,

To Golgotha.  


Since the Prince is too ill

To get to the top by himself

The Emperor  takes him

In his  arms to Golgotha.


There,  knelt at the mountain  top,

looking up at the sky,

  Theyíre  praying for Russia, for us,

They are  praying to God

To pardon our  gravest of  sins.


Like the Urals diamonds,

Tsariczaís tears run down her cheeks.

And wherever  they drop

Beautiful roses will grow.


Princessesí eyes,  like heaven turquoise,

Are full of bitter tears;

Like a forget-me-not  crushed

By merciless violent storm.


All  night long they kneel there

Praying  all by themselves

Straining  every nerve of theirs,

But when the sun rises up

They  go back to the grave.


Th rumorís been spread

For some time already:

Our sufferings will come to an end

When together with Tsar

All of us will go up  to Golgotha

And pray to God to pardon us.


When together with Tsar

All of us will go up to Golgotha

And pray to God to pardon us! 


Side B


9. Withstanding

( Lyrics by Larisa Kudrjashova)


Oh, God, in the time of trying,

Apostasy and worldwide lying

Give us force to withstand it all,

Teach us, comfort and support.


And when, by violence and deceit,

Even the chosen are stamped with the seal,

Oh, God, give us sight and force 

To be able to see and withstand.


And  should our own folks, if blinded,

Drive us out of our houses and churches,

Oh, God, the human nature reader, give us patience

To keep on living  in the  Holy Truth of yours.


And when the Belief  loses the Cross,

And get formal at churches,

Do not let us live with hypocrites,

Do not let the fear of God die with us.


Oh God, Oh God, we are wretched and humble,

Weíve been sinning a lot ,

Oh, God, the Righteous! Save Russia,

Oh, God, Save Saint Russia.


10. A Prayer for Okudjawa

( Lyrics by Fedor  Borkovskiy)


Oh, God, let your slave Ioann rest reposed in peace!


Iíve learned today  itís for two years that Iíve been sinning,

Have mercy on me, oh God, Iím praying for the unborn Boris,

Give  my prayers of the reposed Godís slave Ioann,

Bylat Shalovich, Iím bending my head to you.


Repose Thou slave Ioann in peace,

Pardon his sins,

Repose him in Abramís bed,

Save him and have mercy on him

For  the wonderful songs of his.


And let him listen to, perhaps, one of the best songs,

A new one, there, out of the earth side,

And in Heavenís chambers let him listen to the songs of the paradise,

For the love and humbleness that he used to wake up in me.


To us his tender voice was  like that of a priestís.

It called for our conscience in those godless times.

Lacking Volodjaís strain, accusations and anger,

Unaware of the Christ himself, he saved God for us.


        He didnít sing of those who cried ďRussia, Russia!Ē

ďGoodbye, girlsĒ crying out in the thunder of soldier boots,

They went on , like Leníka KorolĒ, to give their souls away for his friends

Save them,

And save and have mercy on your slave Ioann, oh, God!


For the love to white mother,  for the brotherís feelings,

For the Belief, Love and Hope Ė have mercy on him!

For the humbleness down to Arbatís ant minstrel,

For the open door of his home have mercy on him!


Repose your slave Ioann in peace,

Pardon his sins

Repose him in Avraamís bed

Save and pardon him

For his wonderful songs.


And while the lightís shining  brightly, and the earthís circling around

Give him what he deserves for his words, what everyone deserves,

As Thou did not forget him and called him to Thee before death

So have mercy on us when Thou  cometh to take us to Thee.


Let the girl be crying, but weíre waiting for the balloon to fly back,

On the last trolley-bus  we shall  ask Thou to save us

 God will send us  forgiveness for our sins

Otherwise why should we live on the earth?


Repose your slave Ioann in peace,

Pardon his sins

Repose him in Avraamís bed

Save and pardon him

For his wonderful songs.


11. A Letter from  ďKhabarovsk ĖSt.PetersburgĒ flight.

(Lyrics by F. Borkovskiy)


It took fifteen hours to get from Petersburg to Khabarovsk.

But it only took  one hour to fly back

A nice stewardess  is smiling at us  kindly

While  serving  tasty things to eat.


Oh, Holy God, have mercy on us!

I wish we would fly down to Petersburg;

Iím somewhat frightened to be so high in the sky.

But everything is subject to Thy Holy Will.


In Khabarovsk I left my true friend Ė Vjacheslav,

The nearer to the sea, the more friends did I meet.

I thank Thee, my Holy Father, for within four days

I fell in love with that blood-flooded land.


In the sea I left those I got fond of,

I do remember how you saw me off in Vanino.

My dear and favorite friends, I have not forgotten  anyone,

Iím crying  recalling you.


ď Pineapples in champagneĒ with  tears in the eyes,

Dear Galka, how did you manage to get there and back?

ďSetuanĒ on the platform, And Vitaliy , a hero,

Special thanks to him for the lobster.


Never shall l  forget Sashka, the wit,

Neither  Leonidycha and Mikhalycha,

The bathhouse, caviar, songs until  dawn,

And  praying together with Ivan Stepanychem.


Well, well, Sashka! Well done! You have conquered the hall,

You played at sight, the  way one must.

Then, at a parting,  you beat me up, in the end-

You gave me a tin of frozen crabs!


Oh, Good  Lord! Save me,

Let me fly to Peterís city,

Give them, our Lord, a lot of love,

But all are subject to Thy Will!


I left the ones I fell in love with at the sea

I remember how they saw me off in Vanino Ö


12. Forgiveness Sunday

( Lyrics by L.Kudrjashova)


Forgiveness Sunday,

  The last day before Lent,

The heart,  hard with malice,

 Cleanse it, with the Cross, please .


Icons, the altar, and the Cross,

Penitential weeping is heard:

ď My brethren and sisters, forgive me, please!Ē

ďGod will forgive you,Ē they respond.


Neither sin, nor trouble

Is hidden deep in the heart today.

ďDo forgive me, to God I pray,

My sisters and  brethren Ö


Both strangers and friends,

And  my dearest ones,

Do forgive me the  wickedness

That in my humble soul lies !Ē


Iím softly weeping for salvation,

In repentance crossing myself

 In the spring rays of Resurrection,

On the last day before  Lent.


13. Russia

(Lyrics by hieromonk Roman)


Thereís no place for me in Russia,

Though Iím not the first exile ;

Since old times  some other land

Gave shelter to my folk.


 My Motherland,  like Mother, you are my only,

Thatís why I donít demand,

For the freedom  you give to your sons,

The freedom to go up  the scaffolds.


Crucified! Is that you, my Land?

Iím standing and   wondering:

In the flags I recognize the shreds

Of Jesus Christís purple garments.


My Land! Are you heading the right way?

 The dirty fingers are poking  at the earthly things

And  you are rushing  to bow to them,

 Calling for Jesus Christís  traitors to be your leaders.


Why, turning your face away from Heaven,

Dí you hanker for the  western sparkles?

And casting  your own clothes off,

Why do you dress up in Lilliputian shreds?


Amusing mobs of good-for-nothing guys,

You choose another way to  go,

A stranger path is not yours,

It canít imbibe your  aspirations.


 Many would  like to stand still

As guards of honor at your coffin,

Bearing malice, not knowing, blind,

They have infringed on Godís possessions.


Russia! Rusí! Wherever  you were flying,

In rags, profaned and wretched,

You wonít perish! Youíre  safe!

With so many pious people in the Godís abodes.


  14. God Mother Chenstokhovskaja

( Lyrics by F. Borkovskiy)


 Oh, God Mother


Do pardon me, a sinner,

To the path of Truth direct me.


Oh, God Mother


Your wounds canít be taken off -

We must see and  remember them.


Oh, God Mother


Make your darkened face light,

And save the Russian land!


Oh, God Mother,

By your prayers to the God

Get us the Russian Tsar,

Plead with Him to forgive our perjury.


In the terrible  nineteen - eighteen

All of us, all the Russians,

 Like Judas, betrayed our Tsar,

His family and the Crown prince.


Itís for that terrible sin

Weíve been bearing the punishment .

Take our repentance in,

Plead with your Son to pardon us.


Take  our repentance in,

And plead with the God to pardon us.


Oh, God Mother


Youíve been hidden from us for twenty centuries

To plead with the God to forgive our sins.


We do believe that by your prayers

God, the Merciful,  will pardon us,

  And instead of ďGlupovísĒ governors

The Tsar, will mount the throne .


 Instead of ďGlupovísĒ crooks

The Tsar will mount the throne .


Oh, God Mother


By your prayers to God and Father

Get the Orthodox Tsar to come to Russia!


By your prayers to  God and Father

Get  the Orthodox Tsar to come to Russia!


Oh God , save the Tsar,

Strong and all-powerful Ö

God Mother Chenstokhovskaja,

Stand up for us!


Translated by Eaja Borkovskaja.