Russian Christmas

Souls who chant the ecstasies of love

In a darkened room lit by candlelight

Recall the harmonies of childhood days

When we as family in the cold fortnight

Of Christmas sang the great composers' hymns,

Tchesnokov, Rachmaninoff, and more.

My aunts and uncles from the snow-clad street

Came chanting through the ornamented door.

And there were wondrous feasts, the table filled

With delicacies prepared by mother's hand.

Before we ate the songs of praise were sung

In a language I could hardly understand.

Always an extra place was set for one

Who homeless and alone they would invite

To dine with us and warm the soul awhile

Protected from the windswept frozen night.

Now in a land that neither snow nor ice

Has seen in the furnace of its heat-haze hours,

Where the cobalt sea is languorous and warm

We sing another song to heavenly powers,

The prayer of OM sung from the inmost heart

For transformation of this world of woe,

That truth to be the touchstone of our lives

And point us to the light towards which we go.