poetic page

Snowstorms took hold of it, flicker
Candles, and chants in the cathedrals
Like senses are of a man dreaming,
And the silvery smoke of incense.

To the sound of bells ringing
The heart will beat like a bell filling.
And there's no escaping the kismet—
From the great words of Christmas.

The spring of these words is heavenly,
They are all of flame and light.
And in the world, and in the poet's rhyme,
And in the word will God rebear.

M. Yu. Lermontov