Lenk-Timur came - a fanatic, an executioner; With him - fire and a sword, with him - tightness and crying; The dragon boa constrictor did not crush us in a knot - Our tribe was completely overrun by the enemy. On the coast, where Sevan breathes darkness, By the lake streams he pitched his camp - Where, having opened his soul to the god of strength, A holy monastery guards our land. pores in the monastery - guardian of the Armenians - The monk lived Schemamonk Ovan, Praying day and night for his native people, For the baptized people, for the unfaithful race. How Ovan learned from the gate walls of the Evil Tatars raid, Christian captivity, He was very angry, he put pressure on the lords, That Satan has such control over people, The gray-haired man did not finish his prayers, Grab the rod - and get out of the gate saints. Mumbling, he goes where the path leads. In oblivion - on the surface of the turquoise waters: Sevan splashed, but did not dare to splash the gray dew on his bare feet, As the Basurman prince saw it. With his frail past, he trembled, bending down, Screamed, howled from a steep height: “Don’t be angry, come back, holy man! Return to your home in peace!” - So the khan prayed; He turned his feet to the Ovan monastery. Leaning slightly on the dry bank with his staff, the adversary hits the saint with his brow: “Take from me what the old man commands, a golden treasury, or a label for power!” Is there really no room for the birds of God? Is the light too small?” Likhodey answered: “I will give up as many souls, How many souls will enter the monastery church, Well, go, old man, and remember no evil!” And he immediately ordered the crowd from one wing to enter the monastery: As many free people as the temple can accommodate. The formidable guards left the outposts; wing: For a hundred thousand of them, they entered the small monastery, - Not even one porch was filled. The Basurman thief is surprised at the marvelous, shouts to the guards, Orders the new captives to be released. A cloud of people pours in, pours into the church, - The number of darkness exceeds the darkness: The monastery is still not full, still calling guests; And the stream of people floats, and floats. for the third time Lenk-Timur shouts, the rest of the crowd orders to be dismissed. Those in the back are coming, and - behind the row - everyone goes into the temple. A wild look leads the fierce enemy to the surrounding mountains: There are no prisoners, as if there were none. And the cathedral was still empty. The khan was horrified: “Is this real or delirium? Search the entire monastery! Find their trace!” The privets enter the holy den: There is Ovan alone; He was on his knees, - He fixed his eyes high, - as if he had grown into the ground; His beard was wet from abundant tears. No matter how many Armenians entered the small monastery, Ovan wrapped them all in doves, - He begged for grace from heaven, - And into his native valley, and into his native forest, He released the birds into the living open space: All of them went to the shelter of the inaccessible mountains. They all flew away - and there was a flash calmed down, And stood, alone, in prayer.
Translated from Russian · original on wisdomlib.ru