On this day:

Penalty squadrons in the Air Force

On August 4, 1942, the Supreme Command Headquarters sent an order to the troops to create penalty squadrons. They were formed in every air army... But they did not last long. In the spring of 1943, the order was canceled.

Penalty squadrons in the Air Force

On August 4, 1942, the Supreme Command Headquarters sent an order to the troops to create penalty squadrons. They were formed in every air force. But they did not last long. In the spring of 1943, the order was canceled.

On August 4, 1943, Semyon Vasilyevich RUDNEV (born 27.2.1899), one of the organizers and leaders, died partisan movement in Ukraine, Hero Soviet Union... Rudnev is a native of the village. Moiseevka, now Rudnevo Putivl district of Sumy region. In September 1941 he headed partisan detachment, from October - Commissioner of the United Putivl detachment S.A. Kovpaka, member of the underground Central Committee of the CP (b) U.

The death of partisan commissar Rudnev

On August 4, 1943, Semyon Vasilyevich RUDNEV (born 27.2.1899), one of the organizers and leaders of the partisan movement in Ukraine, Hero of the Soviet Union, died. Rudnev is a native of the village. Moiseevka, now Rudnevo Putivl district of Sumy region. In September 1941, he led a partisan detachment, since October - Commissioner of the united Putivl detachment S.A. Kovpaka, member of the underground Central Committee of the CP (b) U.

He died during a breakthrough from the encirclement near the village of Delyatin, Stanislav region. A few days later, his son, a partisan, also died. Both were buried in a mass grave in the town of Yaremche, Ivano-Frankivsk region.

On August 4, 1983, Yuri Borisovich LEVITAN (born 02.10.1914), an announcer, People's Artist of the USSR, who during the Great Patriotic War considered the main voice of the Fatherland.

Yuri Levitan - the voice of war and victory

On August 4, 1983, Yuri Borisovich LEVITAN (born 02.10.1914), an announcer, People's Artist of the USSR, who was considered the main voice of the Fatherland during the Great Patriotic War, died suddenly.

Since childhood, he dreamed of becoming an artist, but accidentally ended up in a group of trainees at Moscow Radio. Once I.V. Stalin heard from the loudspeaker the voice of a young announcer who was reading an article from Pravda. The leader entrusted the 19-year-old trainee to voice over the radio the text of his report at the opening party congress.

Levitan received particular fame during the Great Patriotic War, wheni read the reports of the Soviet Information Bureau daily, and then announced the Victory. After the war, Levitan passed on the most important state messages.

He died at the Prokhorovka field, where he arrived to cover the celebration of the 40th anniversary of the Battle of Kursk.

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Transcript

1 EKATERINA NOVIKOVA-STANKEVICH Stylobat

5 Vidnovsky Deanery of the Moscow Diocese of the Russian Orthodox Church Education Department of the Administration of the Leninsky Municipal District of the Moscow Region Administration for Youth, Culture and Sports of the Administration of the Leninsky Municipal District of the Moscow Region Leninsky Branch of the Moscow Regional Organization of the Writers' Union of Russia SERIES OF WINNERS OF THE ANNUAL ORTHODOX DISTRICT COMPETITION OF THE LITERARY LITERARY ALMANACH'S PRIZE OF VIDNOVSKY BLESSING "LETTER TO YOUR SOUL"

7 EKATERINA NOVIKOVA-STANKEVICH Stylobat Vidnoe 2014

8 Ekaterina Novikova-Stankevich. Author's collection. Stylobat Edition of the Local Religious Organization of the Orthodox Parish of the Assumption Church in Vidnoye, Moscow Region, Moscow Diocese of the Russian Orthodox Church, Signed for printing Order ISBN Editorial address: Moscow Region, Vidnoye, Belokamennoye Shosse, Assumption Church. Tel./fax 8 (495) Printed at JSC "First Model Printing House" Branch "Chekhovsky Printing House", Moscow region, Chekhov, st. Polygraphists, d. 1. T copy. Format 130x200, 4.7, Minion Pro headset. Responsible for the publication, Hieromonk Sophrony (Gorokholsky), A.P. Zimenkov Illustrations by O.V. Podivilova Technical editor E.A. Koberidze Design, layout by D.S. Sukharev

9 EDUCATIONAL BOARD Archpriest Mikhail Yegorov, Dean of the Churches of the Vidnovsky District; assistant to the dean of churches in the Vidnovsky district, member of the Writers' Union of Russia, Hieromonk Sophrony (Gorokholsky); Head of the Department for Youth Affairs, Culture and Sports of the Leninsky Municipal District Administration M.I. Shamailov; member of the Board of the Moscow regional organization of the Union of Writers of Russia, chairman of the district literary association named after F. Shkulev A.P. Zimenkov; Head of the Department of Economics and Law of the Editorial Office of the newspaper "Vidnovskie Vesti" MAUK "Vidnovskaya Directorate of the Cinema Network" E.A. Koberidze; the leader methodological association teachers of the Russian language and literature of the Leninsky municipal district G.N. Emelyanov.

10 Greetings from Archpriest Mikhail Yegorov, Chairman of the Missionary Department of the Moscow Diocese of the Russian Orthodox Church. ". I sincerely thank the Department of Education and the Department for Youth, Culture and Sports of the Administration of the Leninsky Municipal District, as well as the Leninsky Branch of the Moscow Regional Organization of the Union of Writers of Russia for supporting this good collaboration. Involvement of authors in the revival of the spiritual and moral traditions of Russian literature, attracting public attention to the almanac "Letter to your soul" and the publication of the winners' books are the main goals of the competition. Right now you are holding a collection of one of the winners. It is filled with a special, deep, touching experience of the surrounding world, talentedly expressed in words. And I would like to note the importance of such creativity, the need to support authors who are able to see the good and tell everyone about it so that through reading good literature we can think about the Eternal Truths. And through this, excite yourself to create and create goodness and beauty in the world around us! Prayerfully I wish the organizers and participants of the competition, all authors and readers the help and blessing of God, a pure mind and heart striving for God and life according to His commandments! ten

11 Greetings from Lev Konstantinovich Kotyukov, Chairman of the Board of the Moscow Regional Organization of the Union of Writers of Russia, member of the Executive Committee of the International Community of Writers' Unions, Secretary of the Board of the Union of Writers of Russia Lev Konstantinovich Kotyukov In Russia, the task of a writer has never been reduced to a simple composing of poems, stories, stories and novels. The best and most honest of them treated their work as a public service, as the fulfillment of an important spiritual and moral mission. Their goal was, using the power of the artistic word, to sow reasonable, kind, eternal. Today, in a market economy, these lofty goals, unfortunately, receded into the background. That is why the Moscow regional organization of the Union of Writers of Russia with such great attention and interest reacted to the Blessing competition in the Leninsky district, which seeks to combine literary creativity with the enduring values \u200b\u200bof Orthodoxy and the great humanistic traditions of Russian literature. I sincerely thank the organizers of this competition, Archpriest Mikhail Yegorov, Dean of Churches of the Vidnovsky District, and his assistant, Hieromonk Sophrony (Gorokholsky), for an extremely important and urgent initiative in today's circumstances. I wish the Blessing Competition a successful and long-term future, and I wish its participants bright creative achievements. eleven

12 From the author Each person has his own destiny, everyone is given the opportunity to find themselves and make their dreams come true. And if the Creator gave you the ability to put words together, you should follow this path with gratitude, submissively experiencing all kinds of obstacles and hardships on it. Poetry for me is not only rhymed words and deep conceptual meanings, but an attempt to enclose the surrounding world in a rhythmic shell, to hear music, the breath of life. An attempt to go beyond everyday descriptive frameworks pushes me to rethink my fate through the fate of the world around me. Peer into what is happening, breaking it into small pieces, refracting the light, and then trying to assemble it, relying on your vision, intuition, this is what I strive for. Struggling with emotions, excessive pretentiousness of perceptions, I look for quiet joy in poetry, simple and understandable words for the reader, a truthful attitude to reality and love that permeates all that exists. Being honest with myself is the main tenet that I am trying to follow. I try to convey the pulsating intonation of time in a poetic form, to keep pace with the age that accelerates movement, to follow the chosen vector without losing my individuality. Someone will find this name "Stylobatus" unusual, which in Greek literally means the upper surface of the stepped base of an ancient Greek temple and refers the reader to antiquity. I remember the distant times, a giant platform 12 rises before my eyes

13 Greek temples, stone slabs under slender tall columns. Temple building requires a solid foundation that can withstand all the splendor of the temple. The name "Stylobat" carries a deep metaphorical, semantic load. In my understanding, stylobate is faith. A powerful, unshakable foundation for the growth of creative possibilities, an eternal base of values, attempts to exfoliate stereotypes, seeking and finding divine truths. For me personally, "Stilobat" is my foot, an approach to high literature. Difficult, inexperienced steps in creativity and, of course, hope. This book includes poems written over the past few years; they are dedicated to people, events that mark our time, whose contemporary I happened to be, discreet, but at the same time majestic nature, love for those close and dear. The life-giving light of Christianity that kindles an incorruptible fire in our hearts. I would like to express special gratitude for the publication of my first book to the Dean of the Churches of the Vidnovsky District, Archpriest Mikhail Yegorov. For prayer support, warmth of heart, benevolence, trusteeship in the creation of the book, I express my deep gratitude to the assistant of the dean of churches in the Vidnovsky district, the rector of the Assumption Church in Vidnoye, Hieromonk Sofroniy (Gorokholsky). The deep knowledge of Father Sophrony, a member of the Writers' Union of Russia, of the modern literary process, and subtle life remarks helped me seriously in my work on the book. I thank the chairman of the board of the Moscow regional organization of the Union of Writers of Russia L.K. Kotyukov, who believed in me back in 1997, when I was admitted to the Writers' Union. Many thanks for the help in the work on this publication to the head of the Leninsky district literary volume - 13

14 unity to them. F. Shkuleva A.P. Zimenkov, editor-in-chief of the almanac of the Vidnovsky deanery "Letter to your soul" E.A. Koberidze. The joy of drinking from the Orthodox springs of Russian life in the hope of becoming their little drop and joining the river of Russian spiritual space attracts me to poetry. And how joyful it is to realize, feel, experience that dreams come true on this path. 14

15 DON'T BE SAD 15

16 Spring light I would not oversleep the beginning of spring, To smile at the miracle of life with my heart! I would see how the whole world shakes a cloud of lilacs in the air! I would breathe in the blue sky, Sprout green grass, Feed the first birds with bread from the palm of your hand Oh, spring, I am happy with you! I'll cook Delicious cabbage soup from young nettle, sit down at the table, try it. In nature, one must be happy, banish the ailment with the Primrose. Oh, I would not overlook the spring light! It is radiant like a whirlwind of spray in a fountain. Take a ride with me on the merry-go-rounds, And let the spring deceive me. 16

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18 Russia There is enough snow and rain for everyone, Here is a red mountain ash, like fire. Here our souls from childhood begin to Look at the world with the eyes of icons! Such people live around me! And heaven is half the world of grace! We do not judge two-faced Europe, We live the dream of becoming holy Russia. eighteen

19 Country Elegy The fruits are gathered, summer is over. The last flowers are sad in the beds. The tops are hanging, plantings are made. The earth is tired, the warmth ran out. The stream is ready to go under thin ice. We prepare apples for wintering. Let's throw three carrots to the red hares: Fun to us, and to them it is like honey. The gifts of nature are hard work. The world is colored with the inspiration of autumn. Yesterday's day was forgiven with an oblique beam, And the neighboring gardens were empty. The earth's axis is turned towards winter, And everything around seems to be living out. And the chariot of summer drives off, And the birds will fly only in the spring. 19

20 Do not be sad Do not be sad, let the sun burn out In the already cold mirror of the water, Where flocks of autumn birds float And purple footprints of clouds. Do not be sad, fate will be good, Spring will cut through the ice and snow. And life will again be desired by people, And the sun will glow red-hot. twenty

21 * * * The star is frightened, the flight is ruthless, Its path is so clear in the dark sky. Saying goodbye to summer, it will soon fall. Its short light is mysteriously beautiful. Fly, burn for earthly joy. The moon is tangled in my eyelashes. All the mystery of nature to me alone Yes to nameless and loud birds! 21

22 Marina Tsvetaeva Water near the landing stage Does not reflect the sun spots. Trouble struck in Elabuga. Which is now clear to everyone. They pass the train, Wheels knock, as if crying. Marina, your star means so much in my destiny. Everything is like then water and silence. The terms are all known. You are here with me. But you are silent, And August melts into the surrounding darkness. 22

23 Spring What a luxury spring! Sparrows chirped. Youth again has no time for sleep. The sun smiles at everyone. Soon the streams will flow, The branches will be covered with leaves. Maybe we'll stay here, Or we'll ride to the pier. We will walk until morning. Oh, enjoy the time! The heart rejoices: hurray! Enough of the icy burden. 23

24 Lonely wind A lonely wind blowing through the shutters, Says that he is in love. On this night, he is the most important. Suddenly I understand: you are like him! I ought to forget about that, and that's it: Love hurts such a soul Go out on the porch, even for a minute, We can talk to you. Come out. Give me a smile. And in response, the heart will sing in a ringing voice in the chest. Next to you, I will forget about everything in the world. Just don't go. 24

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26 Return Gray city, dark channels. There are lights on the granite bridge For you, I will be the best, Best of all, in spite of doubts. Partings, quarrels and losses An exorbitant ordeal load But I do not believe in your betrayal. Like a circle, I hold on to love. In the distance, bad will not happen, And it will not be better than with me The plane lays down to land. He brought you back home! 26

27 Autumn morning The wind is rattling in the air. Sadness floats in leaden clouds. And my hand rests on my pillow. In the garden, another picture awaits: Under the thin snow, trembling slightly, Sparkling threads of cobwebs, And the frozen boundary is getting cold. 27

28 * * * Put on golden robes, The evening is red-ocher, crimson. Light in the window, shine with a glimpse. Reseda smell, spill, spicy. "I am known as a poet among people." Everything that I touch is sweet to my heart. I live in my Fatherland And I try to sing it in poetry. How beautiful the rose and the jasmine are! But birch lace is more wonderful. Without a trace, Motherland, take a Soul filled with song! 28

29 * * * The February cold plays with the city, It rings with crystal annoyance. The short day fades away so quickly But February will not freeze our souls. The Orphan Universe is quiet. Play me Grieg, let me be carried away To that wondrous land where youth is easy. Where all my sorrows will dissipate, Where not words, but views are so important, Where is May day, where everything is still at the beginning. Where you and I need each other so much. 29

* * * Let the star light up with the March light. A prayer to the hermit prophesies eternity. Trains hurry to unknown valleys. What for? Nobody answers you exactly. We are hollow in heart, we sense trouble, We do not know the purpose of our earthly life. Blind before the deadline, through a series of days We go, swallowing unleavened bread-thoughts. thirty

* * * I feel sad without a red autumn In a scorched and sunny land. Believe me, I love you, my dear, Just like my homeland. Do not listen if someone says that I have begun to forget you. My poems will tell about love, In them I am sad and happy again. I can't sleep on stuffy nights, Lonely sees the dawn. Come soon. I miss, from afar I send you greetings! Come under the golden sun, With Russian speech, Russian soul. In this sultry, but someone else's peace Only you can give me peace. 31

32 * * * Why do poets die? Death is circling above them all the time. Under a dagger, a pistol, or libel We stand up against dirt and lies. We bear the hard cross rebelliously For our own and other people's sins. And love for our sweet homeland We weave like threads into poetry. 32

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34 * * * Let's get through the bad times, you and me alone are not tired. There ahead you look visible Already behind the black part of the white strip. Let's go through bad times, Hand in hand and soul is warming. And the moon shines on us again in the night, And the winter day becomes clearer. 34

35 * * * Autumn peeped slowly Under the jammed roof. What to do?! Water, duckweed, the shore in the reeds Everything was clouded with white fog. As a silent rolling roll, All the lambs are a blue element. Autumn leaf small frigate Sails on the waves to other edges! The rain pours down here is no luck! Rye was collected, only haystacks in the field. I used to tie my longing in a knot, And not cry on the girl's will. The day is slowly falling to sleep, Breathes all the autumn coolness Am I the only one who love spring? Do I alone need consolation? 35

36 * * * Moscow is a wonderful origami city, here a seal was left of my dreams. I will build my day not according to the program And I will go out to greet the city with joy. Familiar strangers to meet: Fathers of families, a venerable widow. Fortune hunters squint in the sun. And timid words fall. There is a miracle in the portals of the city of mystery, Invisible chosen ones print. And youth, it would seem, from where Returned to the house to become a memory. 36

37 A letter to my son Questions will hang, words An empty magpie business. Probably, I was a bad mother. And inept. Probably some trifle, Some insignificant incident And everything turned out wrong, To live for me, suffering and suffering. Probably, there was a redistribution day, Like a crossroads, Where you always wanted To leave me, my sprout. I take all the blame on myself, admitting defeat. But life is so empty without you, My boy, my reflection. 37

38 * * * Ochery, rusty dried sedge. On the prickly stubble I walk before the deadline, Until the honey pastry, cornflower blue. How dear you are to me, Motherland Russia! Where the nesting place of the crow cannot be reached high, Where the spacious land lies far away. Where the snow does not melt in the underground until August, Where cherished words sprout in the heart, Where they are greeted with joy with a friendly round dance, Where suffering is shared equally by all the people. 38

39 * * * Spruce forest has been exterminated at the root. It no longer makes noise with the green roof. Here a man is now from all sides Only the wind hears a mournful voice. Probably, so it was written by fate: The neighbor opposite is pouring a new foundation, And we are sitting under the roof with you And we remember the old spruce forest. 39

40 In memory of besieged Leningrad * * * An ice-hole was cut at Liteiny, Lonely drifting snow is crying. How, surrounded by grief, Cold and hunger kill! The blue haze went down so low, At home I stare dully. And I pray as best I can for those close to me. And in my bosom I keep my fear. And strangers are not strangers to me, And my brothers in tearless pain. This is a native city, not a foreign land. He dies in the prickly frost. The whole broken Ligovka groans. Trams used to run here. All black, turned into a skeleton, the Burnt Foundry weeps. Leningrad is my devastation and hunger, Soon will this curse end? The day will come my city will be reborn. But now he is in the arms of death. 40

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42 With Yesenin's book With hidden sadness I turn the pages. I wish I could sing so skillfully as a free bird. I would be a light swallow Soar over the meadow, over the forest, To give in to the expanse in the high sky. I would have free air Greedy to drink not to get drunk. I would be in a pink cloud Without a trace to dissolve! I am crying from autumn gloom. I only save lines, I just rhyme luck! 42

43 Clouds There are wonderful clouds in the midday sky. Do not take your excited gaze away! Their white impetuosity is light, Ah, clouds, I'm terribly glad to see you! Desperately waving my hand, The smile froze on my lips I will certainly write lines About your snowiness, your light-wingedness. 43

44 * * * August leaves in a series of lights, Day is divided into minor worries. And in the evening you will blink an asterisk from the outside. Or a distant someone? The distance of my memory sounds stronger, And the sounds make their way to a chill. And the deafness of the closed doors dressed the blind night, as if in a robe. Sleeping tiredly on the kuga river. I will collect the fragments of light in the palm of my hand And, putting my hands on the windowsill, I will look in the distance, where the meadows are mowed 44

45 Autumn jazz Smells a bitter almond smell. Autumn Quadriga Rushing along the road of distant Song of the woeful Grieg. An icy drop of mercury Rain is knocking on the old roof. May oak flies, Branches old pegs. The crows over the gray forest screams so painfully. The leaden curtain of clouds Hurts the heart of the old past. 45

46 Autumn There are a few days left of summer, The radiance of autumn shines through the aspen foliage. The grass turns yellow, the dead wood is ready, And the woodpecker precipitates the wood. If you look in autumn, don't expect warmth there! Lead clouds ridge overhead. It rains all day in the village of dacha, We will wait out the autumn alone with you. Signs of the day, withered flowers, Like a colorful printed tablecloth, Yes, the monotonous rainfall Under the windows in the morning gets bored. 46

47 * * * Do not frighten us with an onslaught and force, We know how to hold any blow. We are glad to love you, Russia! God gives us the ability to win! I anticipate big changes: there will be no place for temporary workers here. Let's return dignity and honor to our Beloved Motherland in a conciliar manner, with the Orthodox faith. My people, open the door of confidence, A tear of despondency, withering grief. Let us have love and patience, And the wisdom of a sympathetic soul. 47

48 * * * The huge moon casts light, In its rays my garden looks different. The crickets are singing, anticipating the dawn, And a star is falling for me at random. A breeze slumbers in the green crown. Like musical notes, birdies sleep on branches. A shadow fell like a path on my doorstep, wrapped a handkerchief around the gazebo. Abundant dew showered the grass. Owlets, like children, cry somewhere. My house is silent, wakes up in the morning, And there is no me happier in the world! 48

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50 * * * I will not look sadness in the eyes, Nightingale weddings are in my heart. I wouldn't write poetry about love, To decay a dry tear! I wouldn’t have any lines about her. At night not to think, fall asleep, forget. But invariably I fall into the same snare, stupid bird. I will mix the ashes of the past with my hand. Oh, my Heavenly Guide, thank you! Everything in this world of Destiny under the moon is marked with star italics. fifty

51 * * * Will there be much good and good, From sad feelings, not called by the soul? The first cold will hit the long-awaited autumn cold. Will tighten the edge of the water. Frost grass will harden. Snowstorm all in white Tsar Maiden To the ground will overturn the shroud. All will cover with silver brittle, Shining with a diamond edge of light. Will order the troika to whistle loudly Through the snowfalls to rush into the summer. 51

52 Autumn At the forks of old streets Autumn rustles with leaves. Golden, thick poison, his Court fiercely administers. Between ocher and antimony You will not find the border. A cloud floats over Moscow from the south. And knocks, knocks on the roofs, Exactly beating the beat, The drummer reluctantly, Rain is my friend and brother. The evening goes out, quiet, meek, In the dim light of the lanterns. Through the window from the church, a voice clearly flows like oil! 52

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55 DOESN'T NEED TO INVENT ANYTHING 55

56 * * * Everywhere the gospel sounds, Birds soar over the crosses. And we hear from heaven: “Christ is Risen! God be with us! " Spring streams sing, The world is glorified by renewal. And we, the happy ones, shout: “Christ is Risen! God be with us! " Rejoice! As promised, the Lord trampled on the gravestone. From the dead on the third day he rose. Christ is Risen! God be with us! 56

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58 Midnight Is midnight like that? The moon is silvery in the sky. God-bearing from edge to edge The whole earth is full of silence. Does midnight happen? Wider, wider I will open my eyes. That looks at me, does not blink From the cosmic distance, a star. Does midnight happen? Light from unexpected joy. The wondrous world glorifies the Creator, Whose great love it warms. 58

59 Star of Bethlehem The bull rattled a ring in the sheepfold, Breathed heavily, snoring. In the manger quietly, carelessly Slept God's Child. The sparrows came in a crowd of brave ones to see. Donkey with black and white bangs He continued to sniff in his sleep. And the magi, drawn by the star, Into the fragile cot at the feet of Christ They brought gifts from home, From their distant lands. And the star lit up victoriously, The mountains, illuminating the wasteland! Imperceptibly, imperceptibly Transforming everything around. 59

60 * * * If you are with God, why be afraid? The eyes shine with light joy. If you are with God, do not despondency! Fasting and prayer are your light and joy. If you are with God, all human intrigues will pass by like thunderstorms. If you are with God, malice is helpless. Faith with hope is your staff to the grave. 60

61 * * * In Russia, not all food and songs, There is the vastness of the blue sky. Walking around the world is interesting, We can be our own only here. Light the lights, dawn-lightning, give God's light merry to us. We, like birds, in a thin string Return to our native shores. 61

62 * * * Like a little bird, That aspires to the native land, I go to God's temple without fear. The soul will find peace in it. Days pass and fly away, Dahl bursts into his eyes. Time melts with prayer. Heavenly light in images! The world of anxiety and doubt Retreats every day. My Spirit, given to me by the Father, is passionately longing for healing. 62

63 Mercy Save the Lord from mistrust, evil, From black thoughts, from falsehood, non-participation. Bless us for good deeds, Save us from sinful passion. Do not lament and do not cry, my soul, And do not look ahead with such sadness. The Heavenly Pilot of all at the appointed hour will lead Us to a haven to the beginning. 63

64 First visit to Optina hermitage I stand with you in the church. It's not like it's made of stone. And with admiration I recognize the limits of the wondrous Space. Here the suffering cannot be counted, And the temple gives hope to all. This is where grace comes. God allowed the soul to rejoice! I want to go up to the pulpit And with repentance, and with prayer The cherished cross on the chest Will help to find forgiveness. 64

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66 * * * “You don't need to invent anything, Everything has already been invented for us”: Golden autumn coolness, Winter days silver full face, Light of spring azure, perky, Grace of green summer, And from heaven the Arkhangelsk choirs. But how to tell about it? 66

67 * * * "You are lying in bed again" Archpriest Alexander Derzhavin How long can you be in bed and get sick? Let's get up! Soon our corncrake fly away to winter. Look at the window quickly, shake off the sadness, longing. Played brighter the sun, sparkled across the sand. Raised hopes, illuminating the earth with light. Put on your clothes, respond to my impulse. And let's go for a walk in the garden, unspeakable beauty. The streak ended in a bleak, sad life! Let the violins play in your soul! Behind the bed captivity! We start the day with a smile, with lovely changes. 67

68 Christmas Prayer You are the Source, sipping which, Even more thirsty. We are all worthy of Your reproach, But everyone is treated kindly in return. And I ask before the feast of Christ: Help me overcome my sorrows, instruct Me with your heavenly Word, So that the paths to You become straighter. 68

69 Trinity Trinity. Cheerful eyes. Joyful, noisy leaves. A dragonfly flies over the hill. And the guys are splashing at the barrel. From a blue ringing height A radiant wind falls on the garden. Let the world have enough warmth And fun for the elderly and children. 69

70 * * * And as a result, a fence, a peeling cross. A small grave, where I am not with you. The day is quilted with stitches, The trail winds through the snow. Only the cross, only the memory, Only the eternal sky. 70

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72 * * * Like a sparrow on a branch, The day sways cold. The head is worried about thoughts. February is running out. Between the sun and the moon A part of my awkward life flows imperceptibly And grows my sorrow. On the day of parental Saturday Before a light icon I stand in a cold temple And I ask the Almighty, So that all questions are resolved And sorrows dissipate Before the Bright Image, a candle is quietly glowing. 72

73 * * * I want to soar above the clouds, Meet the flame of the sun at sunrise, Fly away, forget, do not look back. Only the Cherubim will notice me. I'll open the window quickly. I will push off, forget about the suffering. It's more fun for me to fly across the sky In the golden-blue glow. The veil is melting beyond the edge of the forest, The voice in the higher spheres will respond. And the veil will fall from my soul, And it will flutter like a bird. And it will smell of honey and flowers From the bright, fragrant icons. And from admiration it will squeeze the throat Lord, forgive us, foolish! 73

74 In the temple The temple is quiet. God's saints are looking at me from the analogion. With the parish, I will quietly stand in a row, For my soul, asking for peace. It's easy, reliable. The temple is wonderful. How many humble seekers are here! How many troubles, tragedies, how many dramas, Requests, prayers these walls know How many saving conversations here Reached the suffering heart! Our Lord will forgive, he is merciful, The door is always open to God's house. A candle is melting in my hands. At the fluttering lamp, I will repent of my own sins, Christ's unintelligent child. 74

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76 * * * To a simple flower, a small one, A gray wormwood, a feather-grass I whisper on the way, on the grows, From my heart from everything: I love. Ancient chanting tales, Rain-washed fields. Do you believe me, melodious Rus, I am yours from birth! Smokes fly from chimneys excitedly Somewhere to distant lands I have been conquered forever by you, my Holy Motherland. And let the crows blacken in the sky, Victory enemies trumpet. The joy of the Lord is given to me to Live and pray for you! 76

77 * * * "Bless me, sorrow" Georgy Zaitsev Bless me, my house, Here are all the signs of parents, When I leave You imperceptibly with a melted ray. I will go to distant lands, Into the endless maelstrom of stargazing. Bless me, dawn, so that I was glad to leave. 77

78 Bell The boiling melt is poured into the mold, The bell is poured and overshadowed with a cross, So that later his crimson voice sounded from the old bell tower, Called for the revival of the Russian city, Was a sinful obstacle to feelings and thoughts. From now on there is human exultation in him. Grandmas are baptized! Lord! Son! 78

79 Repentance The heavens shone with a melodious dawn, The path winds like a thin ribbon. I want to look at the fields and forests, Let the soul smile at beauty. Above me is the blue, the sun is a fireball. It is impossible to take your eyes off them. I quietly go to church for mass, slowly, My soul is bright and anxious. In repentance, I want to tell you about everything, What, oh, God, I dare not be proud of. Before the holy icon in Your house I will pray for forgiveness. 79

80 Atheists What is the fashion to boast of atheism, To rattle and thunder as a void ?! To live a life that is not false for us, we must have Faith in our hearts. We must all gain understanding: We are just ripples on the great water. We need to bring repentance, Or be universal trouble. Or we will never be able to touch God's truth. Like leaves, with the road wind, The hour will strike and fly away to nowhere. 80

81 Prayer of a Russian woman Do not let bloodshed, Do not let the innocent ruin. Don't let us, vain ones, forget that the spark of God is hidden in us. Do not allow bloody days, Between strife, clashes. For sinners for your children I humbly pray on my knees. Let the brother not go to his brother, After all, we were once friends: Mordvin, a Ukrainian, a Buryat And a Russian boy from the Arbat. 81

82 Living Russia Great Russia lives not in diseases, grief, troubles, But in achievements and victories. Stand shoulder to shoulder, people! Sergius, our Saint, is with us! In Russian life for centuries He is the protector and guardian. The Lord's hand is with us! 82

83 83

84 My Russia Russia is not in a glamorous diva, But in a Russian woman at the porch, Who, working in the field, Washed seven sweats from her face. Oh, my Lord, forgive the sad Betrayal, shame and shame. And help us with Heavenly Power Transform Russia. 84

85 Ruth Ruth, a Maovite woman with widow's eyes, A tear caked on her sunken cheek. On the dusty road you follow her, For your mother-in-law, many long days. Ruth, do not kill good aspirations in your heart, Loved joy, love pity. Under the moon it is necessary to crush the barley again. Your supper will be meager this night too. The scent of the world is pouring in, the starlight is far away. A sip of water will be mercy. 85

86 * * * There are no pastures closer, There are no relatives of the sun. There is no holier and higher than my Russian share. Drunk with blood, Fly away, crow. My heart is full only with Christ's love. Under the shirt is the cross of a new stronghold of Life. New world messenger My great people! 86

87 * * * The minutes passed faster, Spring plays out the drama. Before my eyes the days are warming, Hurrying over the horizon stubbornly. Rains saturate the earth, Like a drum, they knock on the roof. The whole look is me. I will heed the higher powers. And I hardly hear your words. Here the Grass wakes up in alarm, like an explosion, an earthquake. And the roads lengthen, And life strives for Resurrection. 87

88 Afterword by a member of the editorial board of the Moscow Diocesan Vedomosti, a member of the diocesan department for interaction with the media, editor-in-chief of the Orthodox almanac of the Vidnovsky deanery “Letter to your soul”, co-chairman of the competition committee of the Annual Orthodox regional literary competition “Blessing” Hieromonk Sophrony ) You can ask the question: "Why does the church publish secular literature and arrange such competitions?" The answer is very simple. The Church uses every good opportunity to develop and enlighten people with the rays of the Divine gift of talent. It is very important to help him not only grow, but also to grow stronger, to mature: from a small sprout of vague sensations and primitive worldview to the wealth of his own experience, great mental enlightenments, spiritual purity and, most importantly, the search for the immutable Truth. Only then will this talent turn into a real diamond, and in our case, a tome of literature. And its source will never become scarce, because it will be pure. Also urgent for the church is the task of assisting in the revival of the culture of the Russian language, especially among children and youth. A person must be able to express his thoughts humanly. Unfortunately, few now think about the fact that the word is a two-edged weapon, capable of killing or resurrecting, and use it without any reasoning. Nothing will ever be able to replace a book, which, in addition to content, also has different forms of perception. Feeling of the texture of the sheet; the smell of printing ink, library dust, or an old house; blots, scratches, wrinkled corners and folds; the realization that this book, just like you are now, was once held in the hands of your ancestors or loved ones 88

89 to you people, all this, if you like, is a way of personal self-awareness, a convenient attainability of a sense of the connection between times, memories, life's destinies. And how now our modern and lonely humanity lacks it! If any of you have ever taken part in competitions, tried to be creative, then you know how difficult this process is. It is associated with the enormous work of many people, a bouquet of talents, a fountain of ideas, author's inspirations, the experience of professionals, disputes, emotions, work on mistakes and colossal loads. This is how each of our books is born into the world, and if it touched your soul, warmed your heart and inspired you to something bright, it means that all this was not in vain. 89

91 91

92 About the author Ekaterina Nikolaevna Novikova-Stankevich (pseudonym). Born in Moscow on June 30, 1964. Higher pedagogical education (Moscow Pedagogical Institute named after Krupskaya), specialty "philologist", graduated from postgraduate studies. Member of the Writers' Union of Russia. Head of the Moscow literary association "Fatyanovskaya Vesna", the association of literary associations in Moscow. Engaged in active social and creative work: teaches at the "University of the Third Age" at the Center for Social Services in Orekhovo-Borisovo Yuzhny; organizes and conducts literary and musical events dedicated to significant events, memorable dates, holidays, patriotic actions, creative festivals of children, veterans, poetry contests. In his work, he pays special attention to urgent problems of society, love for the Fatherland, moral and religious issues. Published in literary almanacs and collections: "Origins", "Consonances", "Poetic Moscow", "The Shining of the Lyre", "Our Otradnoe", "Litsovet", "Moskovsky Parnas", "Interuniversity Collection", "Moskovsky Komsomolets", " Folk teacher"," Red Star "," Tsvetaevskie bonfires "," Literary Republic ", etc. He is a laureate of poetry competitions of international literary communities and the Moscow city organization of the Union of Writers of Russia. For winning creative competitions she was awarded with diplomas. S. Yesenin and M. Tsvetaeva with the presentation of commemorative personal medals. In 2013, she became the winner of the II Annual Orthodox literary competition "Blessing" for the prize of the almanac "Letter to your soul" in the age category "30 years and older." 92

93 93

94 CONTENTS Greetings from the Chairman of the Missionary Department of the Moscow Diocese, Archpriest Mikhail Egorov Greetings from the Chairman of the Board of the Moscow Regional Organization of the Union of Writers of Russia L.K. Kotyukov From the author YOU ARE NOT SAD Spring light Russia Country elegy Don't be sad "The star is scared, the flight is merciless" to Marina Tsvetaeva Spring Lonely wind Return Autumn morning "Put on your golden vestments" "February cold plays with the city" "Let the star light up with March light" " I'm sad without a red autumn "" Why do poets die? " "Let's get through the bad times" "Autumn looked slowly" "Moscow is a wonderful origami city" Letter to my son "Ochery, rusty dried sedge" "Spruce forest has been rooted out" "A hole has been cut at the Foundry" With Yesenin's book

95 Clouds "August is leaving in a series of lights" Autumn jazz Autumn "Do not frighten us with an onslaught and force ..." "A huge moon throws light" "I will not look sadness in the eyes" "There will be a lot of good and good sense" Autumn DO NOT NEED TO INVENT ANYTHING "Everywhere the gospel sounds" Midnight Star of Bethlehem "If you are with God, why be afraid?" "In Russia, not all food and songs" "Like a little bird" Mercy First visit to Optina Pustyn "You don't need to invent anything" "How long can you be in bed and get sick?" Christmas Prayer Trinity "And in the end, a fence" "Like a sparrow on a branch" "I want to soar above the clouds" In the church "To a simple flower, little child" "Bless me, my home" Bell

96 Repentance Atheists Prayer of a Russian woman Living Russia My Russia Ruth “There are no pastures closer” “The minutes flowed faster” Afterword by the editor-in-chief of the Orthodox almanac of the Vidnovsky deanery “Letter to your soul” Hieromonk Sophrony (Gorokholsky) Afterword by the senior researcher of the Institute of World Literature ... Gorky Of the Russian Academy Sciences A.P. Zimenkova About the author

97 Printed with the support of the National Saint Tryphon Foundation

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When you sometimes miss, And something disturbs you, Remember that there is a heart in the world that loves you! Oh, how insignificant all comparisons are, One thing I know: I always need you - With the sun, with the moon, in the crowd

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