The humankind is plentiful on Earth
And each forsaken soul
Is pleading for salvation
And help Divine, and yet

I cherish modest hope
That you, Almighty hear
My prayer, screaming of my soul
Which pleads for wellbeing

Of a humble poet, who’s name
Was hidden from the people
Who hold him dear still.
I know, God, in the celestial garden

That holds the souls of happiness depraved,
The birds of Paradise sing to them day and night
To bring them joy they never knew before.
Where Sun is shining bright and basks the Earth
In tenderness of light.

It won’t give up until it warms the souls
That once sunlight denied.
In the celestial garden where Sun abounds
And grass is em’rald green,

The Poet of  Poets to You will write his verse
And flood your kingdom with his words divine.
Those words are known only to the poet,
Revealed to him by God himself.

The verse is poet’s soul, it bears the pain
And joy that coexist on dusty shelves
As centuries go by, afraid not of the Time,
Their age with wisdom tightly intertwined.

The poet’s star will shine through Time
Long after our flesh in dust returns.
I know, God, you cherish poet’s faith,
But please, don’t hurry to reclaim his soul.

For many years may his verse ring loud
And please the ears of adoring crowd.

We don’t begrudge you, God
That once upon a time Georg
Mateos you endowed with gift divine,
Not even fact that none of us
Mateos ever will surpass.

Our love for poet is not less than yours
And our plea to thee is not rehearsed.
We pray that mercy you will grant again
And keep on Earth for many years this man!

By Liana Margiva

Translated from Russian by Anatol Kardiukov