BEATITUDES

 

Yeah, the man, I say the man, the only man

is like a hollow bamboo – no one is with him,

no one can make him vibrate with music,

with harmony. Only God has the capacity

to create a melody, instead He doesn’t have

an empty bamboo of which He should make

Himself a flute. Christ is the flute that God

plays, all that comes from Christ is the Word

of God. Therefore, christify yourself

and you shall desire nothing for yourself,

you are experiencing transfiguration

like resurrection. And yet Thy will be done

but I can’t escape because of my paranoia

because of my weakness for the doomed  

dynasties, for the empires on the brink

of collapse, for that Montezuma all along,

ah, he, too, a Christ, for those fed up

with themselves and with the world,

for those who believe in the inescapable,

for those exhausted and abnormal

for Romanovs and Habsburgs, for all

those who are awaiting their executioner,

for those who are in danger, for those

consumed by passions from everywhere,

for the Rumanians who gyrate

in the nothingness like a propeller

for all of them I pray with unparalleled

intensity and nothing is fulfilled.

I am consuming myself in vain,

Thy will be done. I open my mouth

saying, “Blessed are ye when people

shall be fed up with you and shall

deliver you over to the hand

of the executioner… Blessed,

blessed, blesses are ye for great

is your reward in heaven.”