the Ringing cedars of Russia
Vladimir Megre English translation by John Woodsworth

Book 1. Anastasia (1996)

Author’s message to readers


Dear readers, thank you. Thank you all who have responded to Anastasia with kindness and understanding. Indeed, I could not imagine that she would actually be capable of arousing so many feelings and emotions. I would so like to answer all your letters individually, but for the time being at least, this is physically impossible. The last lines of this book were penned in the Caucasus, where I have joined local archaeologists and enthusiasts in investigating the dolmens1 Anastasia spoke about. And we found them. Saw them with our own eyes. Took pictures. These are ancient stone constructions, ten thousand years old. They have functional significance even for people living today.

They are located in the south, in the mountains of the Caucasus, not far from the cities of Novorossiysk, Gelendzhik and Tuapse.    They are the precursors of the pyramids of Egypt. But the local residents didn’t pay any attention to the dolmens, not appreciating their purpose. Even though the dolmens were classified as historic monuments, they were ransacked by the local population. Their huge stones were carted off, and even used to build a church in the

settlement ofBeregovoe,  which to me is nothing short of sheer blas-phemy. Perhaps it was for this reason that forty priests were cruelly tortured to death in the Kuban region  during the revolutionary period of Russian history — one priest for each dolmen stone. People carried these stones off, not fully appreciating their significance.

Now that Anastasia has spoken about them, all this will change. It is amazing, but a fact: much of what she said has already been confirmed.

And even the fluctuations she talked about — the background radiation of the Earth fluctuating near the dolmens — have been detected and reported on by local health officials. Out of all the things Anastasia told or showed to me, I have decided to publish only what has been directly or indirectly corroborated by scientific experiments, material objects or historical facts.

Though I am starting to think that we’d better simply listen some more with our hearts. It would be quicker that way The other method of confirmation takes up an awful lot of time. As with the dolmens, for example.

It took me pretty much half a year to collect historical data and trek through the Caucasus mountains to see the dolmens with my own eyes, and take pictures of them. I was, finally, convinced. But at the end of the day it turns out that if I’d simply believed right off, I could have used this half-year to greater advantage. It turns out that a great deal depends on one’s ability to believe.

I did get a chance to visit Anastasia a second time. I got a chance to see the son she bore, and how she relates to him. A most unusual relationship. In addition, I had the opportunity of finding out from the people who ferried me to the spot on the riverbank about the various attempts on the part of both individuals and groups to penetrate Anastasia’s domain and find her dwelling-place for themselves. Many, no doubt, wish to see and talk with her out of well-meaning motives. But the people who ferried me also told me about a group of scoundrels who set up camp on the riverbank, sent out a helicopter to take pictures of the area, and tried to capture her. She was obliged to emerge from the taiga to talk with them and then send them packing, despite their attempts to restrain her physically. I shall tell all about that in the second book.

I only ask people not to touch her, to leave her alone. Now, after the experience with these rotters, local hunters have taken it upon themselves to shoot strangers on sight. That’s bad, of course. But I say, let them shoot. It turns out the local hunters knew about her existence long before I came along. Only they never told anyone. And they never encroached upon her territory themselves. The locals talked with her only when she came out to them. I started having pangs of conscience for having told about her without hiding the location, especially in the first edition of the book, and for not changing the names of people I mentioned, or even the name of the ship.

Anastasia calmed my fears a little when she said:

“Never mind. After all, I was the one who wanted to reveal myself to everybody.”

But I’m wiser now. I shouldn’t have mentioned specific names. And in future I shall try to be more circumspect.

But still I want to emphasise: please don't disturb her. She herself will tell everything she feels is necessary to reveal. We must not do to her what we have already done to one Siberian family — the Lykovs, described by Vasily Peskov in his Komsomolskaya Pravda article “Deadend in the taiga”. As far as I know, the only member of this family remaining is Agafia, who is dying of cancer, left helpless, taken out the taiga.  A real tragedy, how things have turned out. The Lykov family lived in the taiga for many years, but died out after contact with our 'enlightened’ civilisation. Which way of life, then, is the “real dead-end”?

I can understand why so many people want to contact Anastasia. But it is impossible for her to meet and talk with everyone. And, after all, Anastasia does have a young child.

There is an Anastasia’ club or community organisation operating in Gelendzhik, headed by Valentina Larionova,7 an ethnographer of thirty years’ experience. She has organised a group oflocal ethnographers, along with people from a variety of professions, who are sensitive to the spiritual legacy of their region and its ecological problems. This was one of the first clubs to be organised by readers of the Anastasia book.8

The members of the Gelendzhik club have made what is to my mind a remarkable discovery On the basis of information provided by Anastasia, they have restored to Russia — and, quite possibly, to the world — the forgotten shrines of our ancestors, and are now receiving people wishing to visit them and conducting tours to the places mentioned by Anastasia.

About Gelendzhik, for example, Anastasia had this to say: “This city could have been richer than Jerusalem or Rome, but because of its rulers’ neglect of its primal origins this city is dying.”

I believe this and other cities and settlements will be restored not by ‘the rulers of this world’ but by the hearts of ordinary people aroused by Anastasia.

And there’s more. Anastasia is now the subject of conversation among many healers, wizards and preachers. “We are like ants compared to her,” said the chairman of the Healers’ Foundation Vladimir Mironov.9

I have seen a video recording of a speech given in front of a large audience by the leader of a religious denomination, in which he referred to Anastasia as “the ideal of womanhood to which we should aspire”. He added: “Her ability to draw inferences and conclusions and level of intellect far surpasses that of our population today” This video is now being copied and distributed.

Much the same type of reaction is coming from people with ex-traordinary abilities living in India.

Still another religious leader said that while Anastasia is currently studying our life, she has not yet managed, unfortunately, to meet up with a real man. Later I was told that there is one chap very much like Anastasia living in Australia, and that the two should meet.

I, of course, do not have any pretensions to being a “real man”, far from it, even in my thinking. But perhaps it is still premature to think in terms of arranging a marriage? And it isn’t right to idealise her to such an extent.

It is this idealisation of Anastasia that has prevented a timely rec-ognition of what she has done. Just think calmly and rationally about what has happened. A child has been born. And I have held him in my arms, I have heard his little heart beating. There is a child. He is growing up. But he has no official birth certificate. He will grow up and want to go somewhere — maybe abroad, for instance — maybe hell want to see the world. Who will issue him a passport to travel abroad? What country is he a citizen of? What shall we tell him then? “Oh well, you know, somehow we haven’t thought about any documents for you. Yon just stay here in the taiga.”

I checked with a legal firm on the question of a birth certificate. The lawyer said Anastasia would have had to give birth in a hospital — then, even if she didn’t have a medical record, they could have at least issued her a memo regarding the birth, which she could have used to obtain a proper birth certificate.

“The other alternative,” said the lawyer, “would be for her to abandon her child to an orphanage. They would issue him documents there. Orphanages can do that. And then have him adopted.” But somehow this alternative was not at all appealing. And I doubt that Anastasia would ever agree. So what to do? When I talked with her about a birth certificate, she responded:

“Of course, it would be fine if he had one, just like everyone else. I suppose I let that slip by without really thinking about it. But do not be concerned, everything will still work out.”

Note how she said: “I suppose I let that slip by without really thinking about it.” I wonder how many other things she has let ‘slip by’ — things which could be taken care of at a future stage. That means we can’t fully count on everything working out exactly the way she said. I think we need to examine it all very carefully and at some point make adjustments to adapt it to our reality

On another point, I hear talk about what a poor entrepreneur I am — not being able to print enough copies to keep pace with the demand!

Indeed. I really can’t at the moment. I have refused to sell exclusive rights to the book to any one publisher. I certainly don’t want anyone to have exclusive control over the manuscript and put out whatever print-runs they fancy

The publishers I talked with gave me this: “...The style needs to be edited and made more literary. In its present form it is only Anastasia’s explanations and monologues that make the book worth anything at all.”

My language is seen as “stilted”. They suggest I think up a catchier title — something like “Dead-end in the taiga”, “The healer-girl”, or even “The girl from outer space”. But I do not consider Anastasia to be from outer space, nor do I consider her to be at a dead-end in the taiga. She herself, after all, simply wants to be Man, a normal human being. Of course I can always exercise my author’s privilege even in confrontation with publishing houses, but a lot of time would be wasted on that.

I have been using the proceeds of the initial print-run to pay for subsequent runs in the print-shop,  by-passing the publishing houses altogether. So things will even out in the long run. If someone is interested in assisting along this line to our mutual advantage, I’d be happy to listen, but without the condition of exclusive rights.

I should also say a few words about a certain situation involving my relationship with my family The Moscow group now looking after distribution of the book has received a number of letters and telephone calls about this. There have been complaints that calls and letters to my home address indicated in the book have not been met with any intelligible response.

I left Novosibirsk, as I mentioned, directly upon my return from the expedition. Subsequent events will be described in my next book.

Now I have learnt that my firm is falling apart. And there has been nobody there to reply to enquiries. Ill see to it and bring it back to life once I finish my writing. As for my wife, I have only spoken to her on the telephone. It was a deeply personal conversation. However, I beg my correspondents’ forgiveness for not responding right off and for my delay in sending out copies of the books.

At present my daughter Polina is there. I have met with her. She will fix everything up, and in future there should be no repetition of the trouble. I have had long talks with my daughter and she understands everything. A little later I plan to get a mobile telephone and then I shall be able to chat more personally

I shall definitely respond to all the letters coming in and maybe even publish some of them. They are worth publishing. There are letters about Russia, about love, about bright aspirations. They show the same energy Elena Ivanovna Roerich11 talks about in her book Living ethics. Thank you for these letters. But one letter in particular, a letter from a thirteen-year-old girl from Kolomna    named Nastia  deserves to be answered right here and now, along with other girls who have written and will be writing. Here is her letter:

Dear Vladimir Megre,

My name is Nastia Shapkina, from the city of Kolomna. I am 13 years old, and I am in Grade 7 at school. I read your book “The Ringing Cedar:

Anastasia”. I really, really liked it. Not just ‘liked’ — that’s not the best word here (it sounds too dry) — after reading the book I got a warm and happy feeling in my heart. They told me a lot about it in hospital — I’ve got a serious illness, and I have to go to hospital every two months, and I really want to get well. And your book was like a ray of light amidst all this darkness and vulgarity. I really want to meet with you, and especially with Anastasia. Could you help me?

Right now you’re probably thinking: “How brash and impolite she is!”, but that’s not true. You see, that’s the way we all are — until we see with our own eyes, we don’t believe anyone. I don’t even know whether to believe or not (Mama doesn’t believe, and no one around here believes), it is so fantastic. And yet, why not? — to be honest, I believed, I really did, but all my friends keep saying “Fairy tale, fairy tale!” I’m confused. Please help me. I think you are a very brave man. You have written the truth — maybe you haven’t yet told the whole story, butyou’ve told a goodpart of it, that’s for certain.

What happened between you and Anastasia — the way you offended her, and then it turned out she wasn’t to blame — all sorts of things — yet still, I think, you shouldn’t offend a person that way, even if, let’s say, she’s abnormal or a fake (but that’s strictly my personal opinion — you may not agree with it).

Vladimir (sorry, I don’t know your patronymic4), did Anastasia have a child or not, and if she did, is it a boy or a girl, and what didyour wife think of that?

And my last question: you wrote that Anastasia’s grandfather and greatgrandfather rubbed the piece of cedar with their fingers, but you never said that Anastasia did this too. Did she really not do it, or did you just happen to leave it out?

Please answer me (I know you get whole bagfuls ofletters, but please, just a few lines).




You will most certainly be a healthy, spiritually strong andpretty girl I shall ask Anastasia the next time I visit her to help you. Tes, Anastasia has a unique approach to healing She looks upon illness as a conversation between God and Man. An illness can be a warning or a deliverance from something even more terrible, and she showed me examples of this — Til be telling about them later in a new book. I shall try andpersuade her. Though she’s pretty stubborn about sticking to her views. She says it’s only Man himself, through his spirit and conscious awareness, who can cure anything without negative side-effects, while outside interference is often harmful.

Nastia, judging by your reaction to the book, you seem to be already healthier spiritually than a lot of people, and that’s the main thing. I’m beginning to realise that that’s really the case. As far as whether people around you believe or don’t believe in Anastasia’s existence, I’ll answer you by quoting what someone said at one of my get-togethers with readers. When that question was put to me for the umpteenth time, he got up and declared in a loud voice: “Look, people! You’re holding in your hands an impulse of inspiration, a thought burstingforth, a call to action, an idea! It’s right there in your hands. What more do you want? A sample of her blood, urine and feces for analysis? Is there no way you can do without that? After all, the greatest and most important proof is already sitting right there in your hands!”

You see, Nastia, I’ve come to the realisation that Anastasia is an uncomfortable concept for many, and they’d rather she didn’t exist at all. After all, she’s breaking down a whole lot of technocratic theories, conventions andpriorities. Against the background of purity emanating from her we suddenly start to become aware of our ownfilth, and that’s not always what we want. Especially when we like to think of ourselves as so good and smart and conscientious, no matter what we do.

Anastasia said: “I exist for those for whom I exist. ”  I didn’t think there was anything special hidden in this statement. Anyone who wants to believe can believe. If they don’t want to believe, they don’t have to. However, I was mistaken. Some people read and nothing hap-pens with them. Others... They find a great feeling of love, kindness and

inspiration welling up in their heart. And, like a shower ofspring rain, the worldfeels this grandpoetry of love, a poetry of the heart which is capable of perceiving the light, magnifying it and sharing it with others. These are the people who feel her and know that she does exist.

As for my wife, Nastia, she reacted the way most women probably would. We’ve only spoken on the telephone. But my daughter Polina is ready to help me. She understands everything and brings me letters. She was the one who brought me yours.

Той say it was wrong on my part to offend Anastasia that way. Ofcourse it’s wrong. I would never do anything like that again. The same people can be different at different times.

Our son was born. He’s such a strong little lad. Smiles all the time. And Anastasia is happy and enjoying her life.

My best to you, and to your Mama.

I wish you joy and happiness in your life. Той deserve it.

Tou’re a strong girl. And you can make your friends happier too, more consciously aware of things.



A word about religious believers — their enquiries and questions.

I have spoken about Anastasia with members of the clergy from our Russian Orthodox Church, as well as with representatives of various denominations. Some of them are quite favourably disposed to her. Others say, with some apprehension, that she’s most likely a heathen — she could break down people’s faith in religious doctrine, or resurrect idolatry or something nobody knows about yet — and it’s wrong for her not to be baptised.

Her attitude to religion will be discussed in greater detail in the second book, and it is really quite extraordinary I’ll just mention a few points here.

“You see,” she told me, “it is a good thing that they are already talking about the soul, about the good, the light. Who is the most worthy? I am unable to say.” 

“But what about the sects?” I countered. “The sects that have been banned. Now everyone says that they took the wrong path. Their actions were wrong.”

“Do you think so? Then think of this: a group of soldiers is out on patrol. One of them in the lead has broken off or gone to one side and gets blown up by a mine. Yes, you can say: 'He took the wrong path, his actions were wrong.’ But you can also say that these same actions saved other people’s lives.”

“In any case, Anastasia, which religion do you think is closest to you, the one most comprehensible?”

“Vladimir, let us say you had never seen your parents or talked with them. You would probably be happy to hear anyone talk about them. Even if they each talked about them a little differently. Where the truth lies, you can judge for yourself after reflecting on everything inside you. After all, you are their offspring, you are your parents’ child. As for me, though, I do not need any intermediaries.”

Well, okay. That’s enough about doubts. There are some rather pleasant phenomena that Anastasia has somehow managed to bring about in our reality

I was especially sceptical that she would actually be able to infuse something into the text of the book. These are her own 'combinations’16 and rhythms, as she said, coming from the depths of eternity But after the first edition came out, in a run of only four thousand copies, something incredible happened. Many people were so moved by feelings and emotions that poetic verses began flooding in all by themselves. There are a whole lot of them now. These are just ordinary people, not professional poets, who have been writing.


There are enough poems to date to put out a whole separate volume of them.

In the Moscow group devoted to studying Anastasia phenomenon, they say that nowhere in the world, in the past or present, has there ever been a person or figure capable of provoking such a huge poetic outpouring in so short a time.

Another surprising thing is that while in the first book there is almost nothing said aboutfaith, or Russia, the majority of the readers5 poems speak directly about faith and Russia, and bright aspirations. And it seems to me they do this most inspiringly. And this had a calming effect on my thought about Anastasia’s influence. After all, the Bible tells us how to distinguish the bad from the good, the false prophet from the bearer of truth — it says “By their fruits ye shall know them.”

And if Anastasia’s aspirations and her combinations bring forth such radiant poetic feelings, those are undoubtedly good fruits.

And I even thought: If this goes on much longer she’s going to turn half the population of Russia into poets, enamoured of their Motherland, the Earth, and all Nature around them.

I sorted the poems into several categories: anonymous poems, signed poems, poems by soldiers and poems by government officials. And do you know what this kind of sorting shows?

It shows that there is absolutely no point in dividing society up the way we sometimes do, and blaming our troubles on certain categories of people — like entrepreneurs, the military, government officials. Their hearts all beat in exactly the same way, and across all these categories there are people sincerely striving for the light, for the good.

As for our troubles... They’re something we probably all produce by ourselves.

In this edition of the book I have decided to publish one poem from each category



Into our busy, bustling life Of lonely souls in crowds immersed,

From the vast Universe of Space A Ray broke through to the Earth.

It glistened brighter than the light Of the Sun or of gold of purest hue:

“My people! Greetings! Here I am As your brother, speaking to you.

“I have been sent to you by love!

Sent to you by the ages’ call.

Come to me and take of mine —

I give myself to all.

“Wait, there, my friend, where are you going? Why is there sadness on your face?

You’ve been forsaken... Yes, I know...

I know all time and space.

“Dear people! What are you thinking, people? The world is beautiful, no end.

I can do everything, dear people,

Because I am your friend!”

But the crowd only surged against the Ray, Rushing along on their fashion-shod feet,

And kept on shoving it away Into a puddle in the street.

The Ray dipped into the dirty slush...

It felt no offence, and shed no tear.

But all at once the slush burst forth In a water-spring crystal-clear.

And then a little boy came running —

And fearing no punishment therefrom,

He leapt feet first into the puddle,

And drew on the Ray’s sweet balm.

His Mama got angry with despair And wildly waved her arms in dread,

But Pushkin’s19 statue on the square Suddenly came to life and said:

“Now wait! You must not spank the boy!

He did not act just out of fun!

Pay heed to him — your hearts will be Illumined by your son!

“Come near and feel his moistened hands,

Come close and touch your blessed son,

And you will find there in his palms All that the poets have sung —

'All they’ve created through the ages —

Reflected there within the heart.”

“Mama! Mamochka! My Mama!”

The little boy hugged his mum.

“Mama, can you hear the singing,

Hear the song of happy birds?

You know, dear Mama, yes, you know it.

I shall write you a verse.

'And now you will be happy, Mama.

For that is what I want for you.

You see, I hear it, yes I hear it...

I think I can do it, too.”

Into our busy, bustling life Of lonely
 souls in crowds immersed,
From the vast Universe of Space A Ray broke
 through to the Earth.

Author unknown




(on the image and heroine of V. Megres book Anastasia}

In Russia Megre wrote this brand new idea In book publications and newspaper lines,

The Ringing Cedar or Ana-sta-si-ya

Which drew attention to himself at the same time.

It’s not the first time that this name I’ve heard spoken, And yet it is still not that common a name:

Yes, Ana-sta-si-ya — so music-evoking,

Or Stas-ya, or Stacie — they all mean the same.

The Stacies I know live in cities of shadows,

Their character simple, of good honest worth But here in the taiga, in a cedar-ringed meadow,

I glimpse a fair Goddess — the fairest on Earth.

Anas — a Siberian of Nature’s creation —

In harmony with her environment lives.

Her conscious awareness, her love, inspiration,

To animals, plants, all around her she gives.

Her feelings and thoughts are in tune with the living, The mind of the Cosmos is simple and clear.

In all of our wide world, believe me, there’s nothing Escaping her knowledge of stars or light-years.

Clairvoyant, Anas cures disease at all stages,

The great ringing cedar enhances her reach.

She draws upon cultures of all lands and ages For logic and meaning and richness of speech.

An analyst practising Nature’s ecology,

Her meaning of life is in tune with the world. Intuitive grasper of highest astrology,

There’s nothing impossible for this precious girl.

N. Mikhailov, Moscow






The years... wind back...

Time has opened a window, just a crack,

For the stretches of infinity To be understood, evaluated,

Felt through and through, recognised as fact. Stepping over my threshold-limit

Through the light of good in the blue expanses way up high, I come to you, Anastasia,

Born again

In the twinkling of an eye!

You are a flower of Consciousness and Will,

Your might from cedar-trees and forest leaves,

And from such charming, mystical, magical thoughts That I’m ready to be one who simply believes.

Every beast and insect, raven and jay,

Every serpent, blade of grass and hay,

You wizard-girl, kind maven of the way...

So many aroused by what you have to say...

Your thoughts, ideas, even stronger now today,

Shed light on all the Earth with their bright Ray!

O.T. Vialshina, Gelendzhik




To the woman of my beloved

I shall pray for you, for you are loved,

The woman of my own beloved,

As his heart’s desire, you will be blest,

You will be blest, as I wished for you the best.

Keep him safe when he is strong, or weak, or brave, Keep him safe when he may irrationally behave, Keep him, keep my beloved safe and sweet,

My days, it seems, have flashed by in a beat,

Their crazy dance has burnt me with its heat,

My years have started passing all too fleet,

My son has started walking on his feet.

“Your Papa is the very best, my son,

The very best!

It is I who did not manage to open up to him,

In life, my son, that can happen on a whim,

Another woman takes his fancy and steps in.”

You are both caressed by the gentle breeze of spring Which tells me in the whisper of the leaves How he feels the warmth,

How he feels the joy Both from your hands And from your lips.

I shall not dare distract him

From the warmth and tenderness of your eyes.

But should that not be enough,

I shall send you A ray of sunlight To relieve you of your grief.

The years will fly past Just like a stormy night.

Life will seem to you like an empty room.

I, as a fading star, falling to Earth from above,

Shall chase from your soul the night-time gloom. And I shall be able to pray, please do believe,

So that you, by the light-ray illumed,

Need feel no withering love,

I shall be able to pray, for you are loved,

The woman of my own beloved.

Author unknown



To a woman I dedicate this verse.

I write as an air force flyer.

A poet I could never be.

But my heart flared true.

My breast with fire did burst.


Do not think me brash.

I can’t stop loving you.

Tour image, a touching pulse for good,

Pulsed louder than any engine ever could.

My engine failed... Visibility nil...

An explosion, in the twinkling of an eye...

But then your Ray of Light,

Tour image, flashed and blessed,

On fragile wings it kept me in flight.

A single moment it took.

Only one. I wished — as I looked until My landing gear touched safely down —

That I were a blade of grass upon the ground, By your fingers tenderly caressed.

Author unknown




Ah, the fragrance of Siberian cedars!

The smell of resin very strong

The taiga vast, almost half a globe sweeping,

Stretching to one grand endless song.

The cedars keep peace since times of old, Maintaining the energy of the Earth.

To brighten the pulse-beat of the soul They ring for all mankind these words:

“Here dwells among us Anastasia In spiritual purity’s forest art.

She watches over Mother Russia Through people’s holiness of heart.

“She sends out thoughts, and calls to action,

To the highway leading to heavenly light — The essence ofVeles, Krishna, Rama,

Shiva, Buddha, Allah, Christ.

“These holy thoughts, the Star-bright Logos — Old Russian purity their theme —

Are flying like snowstorms, calling the ages To penetrate to the heart of the dream.

“With me are forces of light, unchanging,

I exist for all who walk and plod.

I give to all a bright awakening Who do not turn their back on God.

“Bow before Holy Russia’s leading,

Bow to her Gods, our creators above —

In the never-ceasing ring of the cedars — Which deify the light as love.

“So, Russians, turn! and with your soul Pay heed to all that heaven gives:

On the rivers of Lena, Yana and Ob God’s Temple of all the Russias lives.

“Step out on the upward road to the light!

The Cosmic Self-Programming path discern!

We look to your goals, as you answer aright,

So Russia may to her Gods return.

“Preserver of the Cosmic energy of Nature,

The ringing cedar waits for the one Who loves his Russia as God the Saviour,

Whose heart its course for others has run.

“Then live in peace and love for Nature,

Brook no dishonesty, live aright,

Draw wisdom’s radiance from the people’s favour, And show to others the pathway to light!

“Such people are called by Anastasia To accept my energy’s gentle load,

So that the bright forces’ attentive idea May help those climbing up the road.”

The cedars call everyone to hope for the prize On the path to divinity, to beauty’s gleam: ‘Awaken, my people! Open your eyes!

Reach out to others, to the heart of the dream!”

The cosmic expanse opens wide its doors To awakened pilgrims on their climb.

To those united on their upward course The whole cedar forest rings and chimes.

Та. N. Koltunov

President of the Cosmos Society

of the Russian Space Exploration Committee, Moscow




Do not come here to see my shame Or think with mute reproach to bless:

Nor hand nor secret stare can claim To lift the cross from my poor chest.

No earth-bound cry will scare away The soul of heavenly confusion.

It will not blight the holy ray Of mind and feeling’s interfusion.

The world is full of sun and storm,

Of finger-snaps and love’s fire too,

Here ashes, flame, blood, tears are born Where mind is false, but feelings true!

Wild honey becomes bitter, surely —

No sweetness from the wormwood’s bloom Pretenders will not grasp the worldly,

The afterlife the wise will doom.

All stories, letters, poems, flowers,

Will waken to the heavenly blue!

I see two Goddesses, two powers:

These are my Poetry and You!

Verse should not be debased as phantom,

It will not see a final breath!

You are immortal, we are random In poems, just like birth and death.

G. Pautov, physicist Krasnodar

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