Плач о собственных своих бедствиях, и Молитва ко Христу о прекращении жизни

Dear land, and the sea, and the native and foreign side, and youth and gray hair in the west of life, and winged speeches - vain labor, and those speeches that the bright spirit gave birth to, and cities, and my refuge - the cliffs that I just walked around, trying to get closer to the Divinity of Christ! Why did I alone walk the sorrowful path, and here and there changing the way of a difficult life? I have never once been able to firmly plant my light foot on the earth, but only disasters incessantly lead me to greater disasters? Teach me, Wisdom, why do I have such a burden? Why do the pious work hard, but the lost know no work? Is this a punishment for sin? Or the coals with which life is purified, like gold in a furnace? Or am I, like Job, challenged by an evil and envious enemy to fight with him, and You, as Your fighter, having anointed me with abundant oil in advance, bring me out naked for a great feat, in order to then reward and glorify the ascetic? - All this is known to You alone, my King, the Word, because You rule the whole world according to great and hidden laws, of which perhaps a small glimpse reaches us, covered with clay and having myopic eyes. But I am weary of life; I can barely catch my breath on the ground, vulnerable to many disasters from enemies and friends, which saddens me beyond measure. That’s why I cry and fall at Your knees. Give the end of life to Thy dead man, give rest to the weary, and lead me to the easiest life, for which I endure sorrows, and have endured thousands of sorrows; Having delighted the angelic faces, bring the traveler closer to the heavenly palace, where is the glory of the one great God, shining in three Lights! You might be interested in: