Tuesday, August 18, 2009

"The Monk" by Kostis Palamas


THE MONK

by Kostis Palamas

You allowed your skete to be on the dry cliff
and lived there
below the depths of heaven,
a monk with prayer.
On the rock you leaned. The years passed.
God shines within you.
With your sacred work you deepened even the cliff,
and it became a temple.


37 Years of Monastic Labor

Pilgrim: Father, how many years have you been in the monastery?

The Elder: 37 years my son and I still have done NOTHING!

And what do we have to say for ourselves?

(by the blessed Elder Damascene, Skete of the Resurrection in Limassol)

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