A monk at night, alone in churchWith a fervent prayer, dispels darkness from his soul,
All at once, a monk arrived, about him, nothing unusual,
And, as an experienced cantor, began to chant.
Then, the first monk began: "More Honorable"
Glorifying the Mother of God, Mother "More Glorious".
To him, the miraculous guest spoke about this hymn of praise:
"Among us," said he: "this hymn we sing differently,
As you began, we do not begin, Rather with "Truly it is Meet," venerable father!"
And the entire hymn: "Truly it is Meet" he uttered, And the monk tried, not a word to omit.
Now I breathe easier, O my virtuous brother Of your hymn, allow me to copy it!
But pencil he has not and not even paper has he, The church a place for prayer is and not for writing!
Then the guest at midnight traced the church with a cross And on the stone with his finger he began to write.
As on soft wax, on the stone he wrote, At this man, the monk was amazed.
Of the unusual guest, the monk inquired: "Who are you?" For you, may it be enough that my name is Gabriel.
At once he disappeared. The monk with horror Recognized the Archangel in the monastic habit.
That which he wrote, no one erased With heavenly fragrance, the church was filled.
