(In Aramaic. h/t @Extrachelle)

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I wish you were here, dear, I wish you were here.
I wish you sat on the sofa
and I sat near.
the handkerchief could be yours,
the tear could be mine, chin-bound.
Though it could be, of course,
the other way around.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish we were in my car,
and you’d shift the gear.
we’d find ourselves elsewhere,
on an unknown shore.
Or else we’d repair
To where we’ve been before.

I wish you were here, dear,
I wish you were here.
I wish I knew no astronomy
when stars appear,
when the moon skims the water
that sighs and shifts in its slumber.
I wish it were still a quarter
to dial your number.

I wish you were here, dear,
in this hemisphere,
as I sit on the porch
sipping a beer.
It’s evening, the sun is setting;
boys shout and gulls are crying.
What’s the point of forgetting
If it’s followed by dying?

~ Joseph Brodsky

 

I am a “lone wolf” motorcyclist.

A mystic biker.

It has always been this way.

To ride, is to escape.

To find solace, in solitude.

To be alone, with one’s own.

Solitary soul.

And yet, the times they are a-changin’.

For if ever there was a brotherhood of men.

One whom I would wish to befriend.

It seems to me that this would be them.

 

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Roaring through Moscow after dark with their big bikes, long hair and leather jackets, the Night Wolves could be Russia’s answer to the Hell’s Angels. But these are riders with a cause, and that cause is the motherland.

“Our values are quite simple: love your country, have faith and don’t use or sell drugs” summed up Alexander Benish, second in command of the powerful motorcycle club whose members President Vladimir Putin calls his “brothers”.

They may share a passion for the open road, but the Night Wolves — “Nochnye Volki” in Russian — reject the American biker label altogether.

 

The Night Wolves say they welcome members from across the former Soviet Union, regardless of their religious beliefs – and count Muslims in their ranks, alongside the Orthodox Christian majority.

Likewise its riders come from varied social backgrounds, from car mechanics, to businessmen — even a few monks.

“Everyone is free to join — except for women. ‘No woman no cry,” joked Benish in a play on the Bob Marley lyric.

“Years ago when it was founded, the club was a kind of symbol of virility, of what it means to be a man.”

 

Alongside the tough-guy routine, the riders also play what they see as a pastoral role, striving for “the moral and spiritual development of the young generation based on patriotism and traditions.”

“The words of Saint Augustine could sum up the philosophy of the Night Wolves,” said Benish, quoting the words of the medieval theologian: ‘In essentials, unity; in non-essentials, liberty; in all things, charity.'”

 

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Embryo

O Lord, you have searched me thoroughly and have known me.

You know my downsitting and my uprising; You understand my thought afar off.

You sift and search out my path and my lying down, and You are acquainted with all my ways.

For there is not a word in my tongue still unuttered, but, behold, O Lord, You know it altogether.

You have beset me and shut me in—behind and before, and You have laid Your hand upon me.

Your infinite knowledge is too wonderful for me; it is high above me, I cannot reach it.

Where could I go from Your Spirit? Or where could I flee from Your presence?

If I ascend up into heaven, You are there; if I make my bed in Sheol (the place of the dead), behold, You are there.

If I take the wings of the morning or dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea,

Even there shall Your hand lead me, and Your right hand shall hold me.

If I say, Surely the darkness shall cover me and the night shall be the only light about me,

Even the darkness hides nothing from You, but the night shines as the day; the darkness and the light are both alike to You.

For You did form my inward parts; You did knit me together in my mother’s womb.

I will confess and praise You for You are fearful and wonderful and for the awful wonder of my birth! Wonderful are 
Your works, and that my inner self knows right well.

My frame was not hidden from You when I was being formed in secret and intricately and curiously wrought 
[as if embroidered with various colors] in the depths of the earth
[a region of darkness and mystery].

Your eyes saw my unformed substance, and in Your book all the days of my life were written before ever they took shape, when as yet there was none of them.

~ Psalm 139 (v.1-16)