Game Poetic Formulas

We go through life with an outstretched hand, receiving but crumbs, forever dissatisfied with ourselves and with those with whom we play this game, creating the world anew each moment from rejection of our essence (from Fear, not from Love)..., and judging these results without seeing the colors of all the Love that brings this valuable experience, cursing the obstacles in our path and those who dig “pits” along it.
We trudge along with an outstretched hand, our foreheads bruised by the eternal “rakes,” seeking abundance and peace outside ourselves, not understanding that everything is already within us, that we are the “picture of the world” itself, the artist who paints both an impassable forest and a tangled wasteland, the same character in this game..., its creator..., that there are no “them” (others), no “us”..., only the indivisible Miracle-Light exists—the one joyful Flow—the radiance of all Its Rays, which, having divided itself in the “fairy tale of dreams,” decided to comprehend Creation.... Not outside It, but always remaining eternally within Itself, as Itself..., merely manifesting as a “player” in the game of Illusions. That which is outside It... is only a dream, divided and forgotten by God..., for You are He, Love itself, the beautiful Light hidden by a shadow.
And there is no such “Darkness”—it is a mirage of the Mind, a difference in the frequencies of perception, an unattainable dream of building perfection upon it..., and therefore an eternal struggle with every “mirror reflection,” as a perception of oneself—of one’s own interpretation of the world....
In a healthy Body, a sound Spirit guides the processes of creation, until the hidden ailment of the Mind activates the theme of “Dying,” disrupting the balance of all the elements of Equilibrium—the advance granted by Nature is spent quickly and imperceptibly. And no matter how much you treat the matter, when the Mind does not hear the Soul and the Spirit (then it cries louder than all), it destroys its own divinity. The world is abundant and beautiful when you see its diversity within it—the differing frequencies of its forces—but while respecting their naturalness, you integrate everything into Love (good and evil, light and shadows...)—you go with an outstretched hand..., but You are not a beggar,... Virtue!

Every moment and every hour the clouds drift by,
Revealing their wondrous work so sweetly,
Changing their forms as swiftly
As a hare darts cunningly through the forest.

Within them are novelty and bright ideas,
Flowing like rivers, pure and clear..
With their inherent configuration,
They create animated landscapes.

They perform miracles, playing with ease,
Manifesting themselves with kindness,
Openly and lovingly, tenderly,
So tactfully and diligently!

The sun shines golden, radiant,
Illuminating everyone with love.
Life plays anew in peaceful harmony,
Resounding broadly with the music of the spheres.

Everything has begun to shine with rainbow light
In harmonious duet with the Holy Spirit.
Our beloved Mother Earth has grown more beautiful,
And once again mighty poplars have grown tall.

Every rustle of grass and flowers
Will glorify the earth for many centuries.
And grace will be preserved everywhere;
All will dream creatively!

The three Spas are so good,
So delightful to the soul.
The Honey Spas—sweet and fragrant,
The Apple Spas—juicy and charming.

The Nut Spas—strong and mysterious,
And all three—a blessed gift.
The energy of generosity dwells in each,
And the spirit of holiness never fades within them.

They bloom only with the radiance of light,
Rainbow-bright, like a precious gem,
Casually warmed by love,
Praised with tenderness and affection.

Little grassy herb,
Earthly mother-light,
Gather light and strength —
Return to me as life in my heart.

Today is a birthday.
A multifaceted creation.
And rain poured down on the roof,
While the gaze looked higher:

At the skies, white with clouds,
And birds perched on sculptures.
And every moment was the best,
Beautiful, all-pervading.

And the rain kept pouring,
Loudly humming a ringing song.
And notes could be heard in the sounds,
Revealing the beauty of music.

Fragrant little apples,
Radiant with speckles,
With every apple I eat,
I gain more health!

September. Very famous.
Open to development.
Knowledge Day. On the first day.
What does it mean? Much meaning.

Different sciences can be explored.
Learning something new is never difficult.
You only need to show enthusiasm,
And you will find joy in gaining knowledge.

The birch is just as beautiful in autumn.
Beautiful in a new way, yet not commanding.
Its leaves of different hues hang from its branches,
Shining and sparkling in the rain.

The green ones, which grew in spring
And sleep at night beneath the gentle moon,
Still holding the vibrations of their blossoming,
While the golden ones are autumn’s greeting.

They still inspire tenderness,
Delight and wonder, admiration.
Beauty does not vanish with the seasons:
Nature’s gift is to be like perfect exemplars.

What are you pouring, dear little rain,
Crystal-clear and gentle,
Sounding like a melody from the heavens,
With ancient mysteries of wonders?

Opening the gates of transformation,
Of swift healing, astonishingly,
And joy appeared in an instant—
Such a phenomenon became a miracle.

Morning has dawned bright,
The Sun immediately began to shine.
The birds began to sing, trilling away,
And the carousels began to spin.

The wind sways the little branches
And invites them to a wedding:
The oak and birch have married,
Joined together in matrimonial union.

What a wondrous sight,
A rare marvel of the earth!
They were wed, creating miracles,
And the heavens themselves blessed them.

Now nature is celebrating,
Rejoicing in enchantment,
Revealing truth through its essence,
Creating a brand-new genome.

Holy Rus shines with golden light
And welcomes everyone with love.
Living in freedom with a blessed gift,
Revealing the wonder of light in nature.

The heavens sing hymns of glory to her
And honor the magic of her world.
She has the strength to become the future
And bloom like spring.

The twenty-first century will open its gates,
And Rus will reveal what kindness is.
The brilliance of beauty will sparkle like diamonds,
And life will flow in harmony.

Once, standing by the river,
Defying fate and wind,
I saw yellow leaves
Of heavenly, wondrous beauty.

They glided over the waves,
Pressed against the steep banks,
Swayed in the breeze,
And smiled quietly.

Glancing around,
Nodding to the growing flowers.
Love flew after them,
Warming them with its heat.

They said farewell quietly and without tears,
Among the flowers and birch trees,
Feeling a message of hope,
Blessed by kindness.

The leaves, inspired in spirit,
Whirling in their final dance,
Knowing they would be reborn in the world again,
Having discovered great love.

The rain rings as it streams,
Pouring so deftly from the heavens.
And its work is not in vain:
It has filled the pond right to the brim.

There, fish and ducks live happily,
And never hurt a soul.
Their kind nature is renowned.
They never argue over who is right.

That is how peacefully their lives flow,
Leaving only a loving trace
Each day across the watery expanse,
Though unaware of the latest fashion trends.

The birch let its little branches go,
The rain pours down and the thunderstorm roars.
Yet she is completely drenched,
And stands alone in the field, proud and tall.

There is no one to tell her how damp she feels,
And from whom can she hope for kindness?
There is hope that someone will hold her close,
Caress her and never forget her again.

What a miracle! A rider gallops by on horseback,
It seems her call was heard beneath the moonlight.
He came up and gently said:
“Though you are wet, you are still perfect.”

Do not grieve; I will come here again,
And being wet is no misfortune.
The rain has renewed you, washed you with its water,
So that you may shine again, young and radiant.

Coachman, do not urge the horses on,
But guide them merrily along.
Let us travel quietly, without haste,
Softly dusting the leaves.

We will contemplate nature
And gently hum our songs:
Of the beauty of the sacred earth,
Of the willow growing by the river,

Of fields, meadows, and little paths,
Of singing birds high in the treetops.
What a marvel this is—
Nature is astonishing, and so is the steppe.

Here there is open space and the free wind,
Every evening breathes with meaning.
Life is beautiful and bright,
And not unruly at all.

We need only love it—
Then blessed living will be ours.
The waves will splash with peace,
And magic will appear, along with the ether.

And you, coachman, drive without hurrying,
While I pray with inspiration,
That we may live in friendship and brotherhood
And share eternal love.

The trees have thinned,
The leaves have flown away.
In spring, through rebirth,
They will grow through magic.

And the little leaves flutter—
Dear little friends,
And, settling upon the ground,
Happily wishing to sleep.

Oh, eternal seasons,
Nature’s standards!
They change in cycles,
Life moves to rhythms.