I Built Something Wrong...

Leave me alone, I beg you, Consign me to oblivion, I build an ideal world Through the power of imagination.

I build an ideal world, And in my world of beauty Everything is adorned with foliage, With flowers and sky of blue.

There the sun shines bright and clear, A carpet of grass like in a fairy tale. All moves in waltz-like rhythm And drowns in colors most pleasant.

And I, as a direct participant, With especially passionate zeal Watch over abundance of happiness Within my creation.

Every little girl gets candy, Every young woman gets flowers, Every boy gets a coin, And youths get a jacket.

Men get limousines, Women get apartments, And a pair of kittens in a basket In my ideal world!

But who is this, O righteous God? Without asking or invitation Into my world, defying all the rules Of design and decoration,

He entered with drum-like thunder, Unbidden and otherworldly, With smells and sounds, With all his outward form?

He is a collection of all vices, Multiplied by four, He crushes verses and lines alike In my ideal world.

"O Lord!" I cried out: "Send aid to me quickly! Appear!..." And the Lord appeared— Like stars at the dead of night.

He appeared, but somehow strangely And even inexplicably, Unexpectedly and unawares My Savior passed by

Me, toward my vision With confident steps And embraced with both arms The embodiment of vice.

Christ embraced a person With a typical bandit's face, And both wept loudly... And I saw those tears...

...Leave me alone! I am compelled to confess to you That I built my world incorrectly, I should have understood:

Through mind and will, Applying all my efforts, I built a world without pain, Which means—without compassion.

September 24, 2020