That Fragrance Resembled Faith Poem by Janri Gogeshvili

The Lithuanians’ visit (1971)
An essay in a verse


Once, in springtime, in my youth,
I led them through forests and caves,
Tracing the paths of my forefathers,
The paths of my native place.

Two Lithuanians, two “quiet rebels, ”
One – a bit fleshy, the other – lean…
I led them through forests and caves,
And they willingly followed me.

One of them was a true rioter,
Imprisoned not once, not twice…
He was filled with the hate for the “Empire, ”
His heart was turned into ice.

We quietly labored up the hillside,
The curtain of boughs barred the way;
Believers went there stealthily,
But my “debts” I had to pay…

And when we beheld the monastery,
Its yard – a nice green lawn,
We saw our labor was rewarded…
An old woman stood at the door.

She looked at us with respect,
That woman – so pale and wan.
She gave us a hearty welcome,
I told her about those men.

She touched me with her wrinkled hand,
She said she was glad to see the guests.
The woman was aged, very old;
Here is the story she told:

“When I first saw this monastery,
I was only four years old.
Since then, I’ve lived here, my son,
I’ve never sought other abode.

Now I’m hundred, and I still breathe,
But I’m troubled by the only thought:
No one comes to guard this monastery,
Soon it’ll be covered with moss.

She showed us the graves of the sisters,
The tombstones – cherished and old.
She prayed, and told us humbly
She’d done a lot for that House of God.

Then she spoke about Catholicism,
About its teaching and beliefs,
And explained to the Lithuanian guests,
How an Orthodox crosses himself.

The rioter was moved to tears,
His treasured cross to her he gave,
Asked her to bless it, and then
Bowed his proud head with awe…

In her blessed hands shimmered
The icon of the Crucified Christ…
And her fingers, resembling candles,
Had a fragrance of Faith and Trust.

24.O5.2OO6.

Translated from Georgian