Молитва Prayer

               SONG - WORDS AND MUSIC BY THE AUTHOR
       * * *                (Translation into English is provided below)


Есть у всех своя молитва есть она и у меня
я её словами греюсьв них как в оберег войдя
 
а душе от слов тех легче и хотя ещё ропщу
и не знаю как стать крепче и на боль ещё кричу
и ещё в сетях обиды бьётся грешная душа
лишь бы слышать лишь бы видеть
вверх идти не согреша

Я молюсь за мир с любовью ибо мир и есть любовь
и за тех кто пишет кровью и за тех чья льётся кровь
 
а душе от слов тех легче и хотя ещё ропщу
и не знаю как стать крепче и на боль ещё кричу
и ещё в сетях обиды бьётся грешная душа
лишь бы слышать лишь бы видеть
вверх идти не согреша   

Я молюсь чтоб пели птицы без команды и оков
за себя чтоб вновь родиться за попавших в нелюбовь 
   
а душе от слов тех легче и хотя ещё ропщу
и не знаю как стать крепче и на боль ещё кричу
и ещё в сетях обиды бьётся грешная душа
лишь бы слышать лишь бы видеть
вверх идти не согреша   

Есть у всех своя молитва есть она и у меня
я её словами греюсь в них как в оберег войдя
   
а душе от слов тех легче и хотя ещё ропщу
и не знаю как стать крепче и на боль ещё кричу
и ещё в сетях обиды бьётся грешная душа
лишь бы слышать лишь бы видеть
вверх идти не согреша         
   
     * * *

06.12.2017г.
                Тель-Авив
       Питерка
Prayer
by Piterka Badmaeva Olga
 translation by Guru.I  29.042025

       * * *

Everyone has their own prayer,
I have mine too.
I warm myself with its words,
entering them like into a talisman.

And my soul feels lighter from those words,
even though I still grumble,
and I don't know how to become stronger,
and I still cry out from pain,
and my sinful soul still struggles in the nets of resentment —
just to hear, just to see,
just to move upward without sinning.

I pray for the world with love,
for the world is love itself,
and for those who write with blood,
and for those whose blood is shed.

And my soul feels lighter from those words,
even though I still grumble,
and I don't know how to become stronger,
and I still cry out from pain,
and my sinful soul still struggles in the nets of resentment —
just to hear, just to see,
just to move upward without sinning.

I pray for the birds to sing
without command or chains,
for myself — to be born again,
and for those who have fallen into unlovedness.

And my soul feels lighter from those words,
even though I still grumble,
and I don't know how to become stronger,
and I still cry out from pain,
and my sinful soul still struggles in the nets of resentment —
just to hear, just to see,
just to move upward without sinning.

Everyone has their own prayer,
I have mine too.
I warm myself with its words,
entering them like into a talisman.

And my soul feels lighter from those words,
even though I still grumble,
and I don't know how to become stronger,
and I still cry out from pain,
and my sinful soul still struggles in the nets of resentment —
just to hear, just to see,
just to move upward without sinning.

             * * *
..........................................................
Prayer
(song by Piterka Badmaeva Olga, poetic version by Guru.I)
         * * *

Each soul holds its secret prayer —
I have mine, to warm and share.
I slip inside its woven thread,
A talisman for all my dread.

And from these words my spirit sighs,
Though still it murmurs, still it cries,
Still aches to find the strength to stand,
Still screams when pain takes hold of hand,
Still battles nets of bitter wrongs —
Still strains to hear, to see, belong,
Still dreams of climbing toward the Light,
Still fights to hold its soul upright.

I pray for peace with love sincere,
For peace itself is love made clear —
I pray for those whose blood has flown,
For those who write their pain in stone.

And from these words my spirit sighs,
Though still it murmurs, still it cries,
Still aches to find the strength to stand,
Still screams when pain takes hold of hand,
Still battles nets of bitter wrongs —
Still strains to hear, to see, belong,
Still dreams of climbing toward the Light,
Still fights to hold its soul upright.

I pray for birds to freely soar,
Without a chain, without a war.
I pray for me — to rise, be born,
And those whose hearts were left forlorn.

And from these words my spirit sighs,
Though still it murmurs, still it cries,
Still aches to find the strength to stand,
Still screams when pain takes hold of hand,
Still battles nets of bitter wrongs —
Still strains to hear, to see, belong,
Still dreams of climbing toward the Light,
Still fights to hold its soul upright.

Each soul holds its secret prayer —
I have mine, to warm and share.
I slip inside its woven thread,
A talisman for all my dread.

And from these words my spirit sighs,
Though still it murmurs, still it cries,
Still aches to find the strength to stand,
Still screams when pain takes hold of hand,
Still battles nets of bitter wrongs —
Still strains to hear, to see, belong,
Still dreams of climbing toward the Light,
Still fights to hold its soul upright.
             * * *