He was the only one –
Russian saint Ioann,
They carried him on arms –
Our love was not with us.
Only you I respect,
Russian, my Russian saint!
Handsome ideal face
As from the heaven’s place!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
This is not a prayer to Saint Ioann as it is the thoughts that precede a prayer. You seem to be clarifying his identity. And by the end of the poem there is no doubt he is the saint you trust. Every type of love, dimension of love, aspect of love, object of love, all demand TRUST. Can I trust you? - is the question we continually ask. Saint Ioann has earned your trust.