To One Emigrant Poem by Liza Sud

There is Russia-Mother and Father-God.
You were born by them, in a cradle.
Your departure is denial of His Love,
Of His Love and His bed in Heaven.

He gave birth to you and surrounds by souls,
Inner circle for you is Russia.
Of the Russian beanbags gave rattling sounds,
Of Light Wills Emelya, a prankster.

But the baby rose and he outcried:
"I do not want your rattling beanbags,
And around the crib - there's dirt and smoke,
And the flies in the toys are stinky. "

Did Christ ever moved to Samaria?
Though apostles called for a long time.
"But for Jewish tears I came and souls,
For you, Samaritans, crumbs only! "

Because Father is smarter than the Son,
And He knows where to give birth.
Even though everything turns too bad,
He is faming Son, but not quitting.