To this end:
“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood...” “Thou shalt tread upon the lion and the adder...” “And take the [helmet of salvation, and] sword of the Spirit, which is the word of God.”
Ah, you accursed longing! O gnawing sadness [that I feel]!
You’ve gnawed at me since my youth,
like a moth a dress, like rust steel.
O you longing, O you torment! Ferocious torment!
You’ll always be with me wherever I go [to lament].
Like a fish in water, you are always beside us.
O you longing! O you torment! Ferocious torment!
You will stab a wicked beast if you take a sharp knife.
But you will not surmount this longing,
though your sword is fine.
O you longing! O you torment! Ferocious torment!
The good-hearted WORD pierces those beasts.
It is always ready to enter your thoughts.
O you longing! O you torment! Ferocious torment!
Christ! You are my heavenly sword in the scabbard of our flesh.
Hear our tearful wail. Have mercy on us among these beasts.
O you longing! O you torment! Ferocious torment!
Your sweet-sweet voice will roar for us from high.
Like lightning you will drive away all the vile beasts.
Be gone, longing! Be gone torment! In smoke and fumes!
The End.
Composed in 1758 in the Pereyaslav
steppes, in the village of Kavrai.