The Willowy Grove

Vladyslav Nazarchuk

In a far-away land,
Past the firmament’s edge,
Lies a willowy grove
By a brook’s sandy ledge.
Somewhat hidden it is,
And quite thorny’s the way;
Yet, when my evening comes,
I know there I shall stay.

In that willowy grove,
Earthly squalls will not blow:
All these worries and pains
Here that trouble me so,
All these mean people’s voices—
There, will not reach.
Peace and silence I’ll find
By that sandy, white beach.

On a stump, wide with age,
I will make there my seat;
On that lovely green moss
I will rest my two feet.
There, a rabbit will come,
His fur still full of sand,
Place his fuzzy, long ears
’Neath my outstretched hand,

And a fallow doe, too,
Will be ambling around:
She can speak with her gaze
Yet not utter a sound.
And my Angel will say,
“Where have you been, my dove?”
He will wrap me in warmth
With his wings full of love.

In that willowy grove,
Where the land meets the sea,
How I wish that, my friend,
You could be there with me!
If our prayers come true,
Then, at destiny’s call,
We will meet ’neath the trees,
Where there is room for all.

And then morning will bring
Many buds to each tree,
Which, unlike earthly blossoms,
Eternal will be.
For thus whisper the willows
To those by the sand:
“Blessed are ye who have mourned,
For your comfort’s at hand.”

And at last, on that day,
Hope in which made us free
From our sighs and our tears,
We will look up and see
The thrice-holy Sun,
Which shines from on high.
Let us follow its chariot
Across the blue sky.