Yet a little while, a little, and my path will come to its end. Yet a little while, a little, uphold me, O Conqueror of Death, on the steep path to Thee. For the higher I climb toward Thee, the more men drag me downward, into their abyss.
The fuller the abyss, the fatter grows their hope that they will overcome Thee. Truly, the fuller the abyss, the farther art Thou from the abyss.
How foolish are the servants of the tree of knowledge! They measure their might not by Thee but by their number. They consecrate the law of justice not by Thy name but by their number. The way of the majority is for them the way of truth and justice. The tree of knowledge has become the tree of crime, and of folly, and of icy darkness.
Verily, the knowers of this world know everything except that they are servants of Satan. When the last day dawns, Satan will rejoice at the number of his harvest. All barren ears of grain! But in his folly Satan too counts on number and not on fullness. One ear of Thine will be worth all of Satan's harvest. For Thou countest on the fullness of the bread of life, O Conqueror of Death, and not on number.
In vain do I say to the godless: take the way to the Tree of Life, and you will know more than you wish to know. Out of the tree of knowledge Satan builds you a ladder to the underworld.
The godless mock me: through the Tree of Life you wish to convert us to your God, whom we do not see.
Truly, you will never see Him at all. The Light that dazzles the eyes even of the Seraphim will burn out your pupils forever.
Of all that grows in the rottenness of the earth, rarest are those who believe in God. O lake and mountains, help me to rejoice, that I too journey with these rarest, most unheard, most despised.
Yet a little while, a little, brothers, and our path will come to its end.
Yet a little while, a little, uphold us, O Conqueror of Death.