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Музика, текст: Пламен Сивов
Превод на английски: Преслав Иванов
I see, my God, Your feet are pure and clean;
I bathe them in my tears – warm, yet in vain.
But judge not, Lord, a woman’s cry so keen;
it helps me see Your death, Your holy pain.
I have a vision of a wail and whip,
a crown of thorns, as well as soldiers’ cloaks,
and, Christ, I see Your bloody face and lips
which You are biting lest they try to talk.
The senseless wrath will sway the endless crowd;
the savage wind will surely knock You down;
and they will drag You, laughing all the while,
towards the place
You have been craving now.
They’ll lift You up for You to be disgraced.
Beneath the cross will Mary lurch and cry;
she will be looking for Your eyes but You
will have upturned
your gaze towards the heights.
She will be looking for Your eyes
And once again, they stand above the skies –
those cities, towns, and people’s sins as well;
above our heads the same eternal lights
keep rolling on their endless carousels.
Through many winters, many summers too,
I’ve dipped my hand in time’s inverted stream.
From You I’ve learned what love can truly do –
and light my pardoned burden now does seem.
I weep. My tears drum hollow on the floor,
and echo every minute that has passed by.
Your very feet are ready to explore,
and all Your words, Your voice, are heard on high.
Perhaps bright days still wait ahead of me,
The One I loved is leaving me behind.
I’ll watch the dust where His steps used to be,
as shadow crawls across horizon’s lines.
The One I love is leaving.
