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THE KOLYADA BOOK OF
STARS
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RECONSTRUCTION
BOOS KRESEN (A.
Acov)
FORWORD:
A WORD FOR THOSE, WHO STAND ON THE PATH OF
THE RIGHTIOUS
- I -
The Path
is open. It lies before you. It runs through stars...
The pages
are sails, full of wind, carrying through the Time Eternal. Hark, the hooves of
the Stardeer, clattering through the skybridge... It's Path of Knowledge. The
Book of Stars. We trod it for millenniums. And when the Night fell, we skipped
off silently.
This great
knowledge, the Vedas, was parted to the Roossis, the grandsons of Dazhbog, by
the Almighty Himself.
Thrice He
descended to us since the Great Day of Swarog. At the eve of the Epoch of
Aquarius (27 thousand years B.C.) He descended as Krishen. One of the days in
the Era of Cancer (7 thousand years B.C.) - as Kolyada, Son of Dazhbog. At the
commence of the night between Eras of Aries and Pisces (4the century A.D.), as
Boos Beloyar, the King of the Aants.
The
Almighty appeared in other parts of the world as well, e.g. in India as
Krishna, In Palestine as Jesus Christ, in celtic Europe as Aesus.
The Roossis keep the Knowledge, which He
parted to them. And it is the essence, the blood of Roossia. It is our Path.
We saw the
Path clearly in the daylight. We remembered the Law of the Rightious, parted to
us by Kolyada, and we firmly knew the precepts of father Aries, the son of
Dazhbog.
And we
remembered that the Vedas were parted to us by Kolyada in the Era of Cancer,
inbetween the Spring and Summer of the Great Swarog Year.
And before
the Swarog Winter started, at the commence of the Swarog Night, Boos Beloyar,
the King of the Aants, revealed to us, what awaits us in the future. And we
came to know that the death is coming to us from the Serpent, creeping from the
South.
But the
day will come and the Wheel of Swarog will turn. This hightime will come after,
when Mother Swa will sing her song. And we shall recall the precepts of Father
Aries in green emanation, the source of life to us.
And, lo,
our temples are burnt to ashes. The Black Crow is hovering during days, the
Wolf is prawling at nights.
And our
land is destroyed, the Night threats with eternal darkness, Mother Earth moans.
The forests decay, and decay our fields. No more songs. No more brewing of
honey beer. Roossia is asleep.
Mother Volga,
the holy river of Roossia, is poisioned. Her waters bring only death, and no
life. Vaalu has blocked its flow with boulders, as in the era of Indra. Naav
demolishes life with its dark breath.
The Death
threats man's race. And there are only two roads left to us - to Light, or to
Darkness. What we choose, belongs to us.
-II-
And here I
perceive the Light. And with Light the soul is poured with peace and delight. The
world is getting tinged in blue.
And the
Path lies before me, glittering with silver... I hear a lofty voice, and to his
command, I step on the road and enter the bright sphere...
And lo,
here, all at once, I am walking and standing. I am soaring and falling. Seeing
everything and at the same time - nothing. Hearing and not hearing. Uttering
and keeping silence. I am in the past, present and future. And all this lasts
for a moment, and for eternity...
The silver
path curls under feet... And before me opens a door into Past. Seems, I stand
between two mirrors, and see a long train of my ancestors. They were priests of
orthodox church, but, before, they were Magi, wise sorcerers.
They gave
me flesh and soul. Me, Alexandr Asov, born in the twentieth century, they gave
flesh, and soul of Boos Kresen, who lived long before the beginning of our era.
At that
time man was nearer to earth, he felt his kinship with the world around him, he
knew better the Laws, which governed him. The Laws were given to him in the
same way, as to all other beings - animals,
plants, stones and Elements.
This was
the time when man received the great Knoledge - the Vedas. And it was given to
him in a form conceivable to him. In the form of myths, legends, fables,
parables. The hidden meaning of this Knowledge was known in the past, as well
as at present, only to the ordained.
Much
changes have been since then. The black forces of Darkness (Navs, as we name
them) have done all to destroy this knowledge. And the majestic palace of
Vedas, erected by many peoples, now is melt in ruins.
Now the
day has come when we must restore the palace, carefully and thoughtfully
restore the Vedas.
And I took
to the job... Particle by particle from the folklores, old chronicles and
apocryphas I gathered the myths of the Kiev branch of the vedic religion:
"The Songs of the bird Gamayoun". I translated into modern Russian a
book of the Novgorod magiis of the IX cntury, preserved by some miracle only:
"The Book of Veles".
The
restoration of the holy texts as if opened a door to me into a tunnel behind
mirror. I walked through the shimmering with blue light, through the tunnel,
and stepped in a world of ancient vedic culture of the people of ancient
Kitchezhgrad whence I never found the way back.
They
opened my eyes and showed the way. I see a valley, and at the end of it - a hill with two peaks. And between the
peaks, the Light.
I
find myself in the temple of the
Almighty. I stand before the Teacher. He opens the box made of
birch bark. It
conceals songs transcribed in
thread-balls. On the
top of the box the time waned colours display a demihuman-demibird
figure, with an amazing title under
it: Gamayoun. He chants a song
over the box:
"Come
flying, Gamayoun, the wise bird,
Over the
high mountains, the Oceans vast,
The neat
fields, the forests dark.
Sing,
Gamayoun, the wise bird,
On the
steep hills at bright morn,
on bush of
broom, on twig of rasberry shrub."
The
Teacher opens the box, takes out a ball and along a wooden frameon unravels the
thread with different knots representing words, words of a song. The teacher knows the secrets of the holy knot-script,
and he reads them chanting aloud...
THE VEDA OF ROATHE
SONG 1.
The
weather strolled distressed, the massive clouds thickened low in the sky. The
oaks bowed and rustled annoyed, the feather-grass fluttered dread in the
fields. It was Gamayoun, the wise bird, flying from eastward, raising storm
with its wings. She flew from the mountains high, from the forests dark,
soaring under the clouds, stirring the depth of the weather's soul.
She hopped
across the blue sea, crossed the Sarachin fields afly, and swift like the
riverlet Smorodina, alighted in the garden of Ira, on the apple tree, which
stood by the white stone altar. As she sat, she lowered its feathers down to
the damp Earth, and began her song.
At the
foot of the stone Altar there gathered fourty menacing tsars with their
tsareviches, and fourty grand knyazes with their knyazeviches, and fourty
mighty knights with fourty Magi of all dynasties. They came and gathered, and
sat around the Altar in concentric rows. They turned their humble faces to the
singing bird and asked her with great respect:
"Wise
Bird, you know a lot, you have seen a lot... Tell us, Gamayoun, tell us in your
songs... How the World full of light came into existence? How the Sun, the
Beauteous, was born? How were born the Moon bright, and the crystal clear
stars? How appeared the wild winds? How was lit the light of Morn?"
"I
won't hide what I know..."
****
It's song
in praise of You, O Father! Dear folks, listen to the song of the bird!
Before the
Light was born, in deep darkness the World was wrapped. And in the depth of the
darkness dwelt lonely Roathe, our Father, Roathe, the source of the Universe,
Father of gods.
In the
beginning Roathe was confined in the Egg, He was a Seed ungerminated, a bud
unsprout. But the end of the confinement came and Roathe bore Love - Mother
Lada.
Roathe
demolished His prison with power of Love, and Love permeated the World.
And He
created the Kingdom of Heaven, and underneath created the World-under-Heaven.
He separated the blue Ocean from waters of the Heaven with help of rocky
stronghold. He separated the Light from the Darkness, the Truth from the Lie.
Roathe spilled the Milk over the Heaven's
doom and created a stone Altar. And with the Altar He churned the Milk, and out
of the butter bore mother Earth. As mother Earth, Sira, was born, she retired
to the dark depths of the bottomless Ocean and hid herself.
Then the
Sun came out of His mouth, the mouth of heavenly Roathe himself, the
Progenitor, the Father of gods!
The bright
Moon came out of His boosom, the boosom of heaveny Roathe himself, the
Progenitor, the Father of gods!
The crystal
clear stars - from His eyes, the eyes of heavenly Roathe himself, the
Progenitor, the Father of gods!
The glow
of the dawn - from His brows, the brows of heavenly Roathe himself, the
Progenitor, the Father of gods!
The wild
Winds - from His breath, the breath of heavenly Roathe himself, the Progenitor,
the Father of gods!
The Rain,
Snow and Hail - from His tears, the tears of heavenly Roathe himself, the
Progenitor, the Father of gods!
The
Thunder with Lightening - from His voice, the voice of heavenly Roathe himself,
the Progenitor, the Father of gods!
Thundering
Groam, the god of voices, seated in a blazing chariot. The beauteous Sun - in
the golden boat, and the Moon - in the silver boat.
For Love
Roathe bore the Heavens and the worlds-under-heaven. Roathe, Father of gods, is
Mother of gods too. Roathe is born of himself, and will be born again.
Roathe
himself is all the gods, and Heavens, and all the worlds-under-heaven. Roathe
is what was ever, and what is destined to be. Roathe is what is born. He alone
is what is yet to be born.
****
Roathe
bore heavenly Swarog and gave him four heads, so that he could view the four
directions and nothing could be hidden, so that he could keep a watch on the
world-under-heavens.
Swarong
broke through the blue firmament the way for the Sun, for his horses to rush
along, from the dawn, to lit the day. After day is over, twilight alighted the
night.
So Swarog
walks along the Sky and from there looks at his kingdom.
Swarog
sees - there shines the Sun, glows the Moon and twinkle the Stars. And under
his feet stretches the vast Ocean, the waves splash and foam with foam. Swarog
viewed the world-under-heaven, but didn't see mother Earth.
"But,
where is mother Earth?", thought he sadly.
Suddenly
he marked a black point on the sea. It was a small grey she-duck born of the
grey foam. She swam in the sea as spins a needle, vanishing under the yarn,
appearing again, restless, running in one direction, and in another.
"Do
you know, little Duck, where Earth is lying?" Asked her Swarog.
"She
is underneath me", said she, "buried in the depths of the Ocean..."
"By
the will of heavenly Roathe, by the desire of Swarog, fetch the Earth from the
depths of the Ocean!" - Swarog asked her.
Without
saying a word, the Duck plunged into the Ocean and disappeared. In the end of
the year she rose from the depths of the Ocean.
"I
couldn't keep my breath. I was at hair-thickness distance from Earth, I
couldn't swim the last bit, just a hair-thickness distance..."
"Help
us, O Roathe!" - Prayed Swarog.
Wild winds
blew and the blue sea foamed... Roathe breathed strength with the winds in the
Duck.
And Swarog
commanded the grey Duck:
"By
the will of heavenly Roathe, by the desire of Swarog, fetch the Earth from the
depths of the Ocean!"
Without saying a word, the Duck plunged
into the Ocean and disappeared. In the end of the year she rose from the depths
of the Ocean.
"I
couldn't keep my breath. I was at hair-thickness distance from Earth, I
couldn't swim the last bit, just a hair-thickness distance..."
"Help
us, O Father Roathe!" - Cried Swarog.
This time
the storms rose, thick dark clouds covered the sky, thunder, the heavenly voice
of Roathe shook the world and a lightning struck the Duck. With the lightning
Roathe breathed the strength of the storms into the Duck.
And Swarog
bewitched the grey Duck:
"By
the will of heavenly Roathe, by the desire of Swarog, fetch the Earth from the
depths of the Ocean!"
Without
saying a word, the Duck plunged into the Ocean and disappeared. In the end of
the year she rose from the depths of the Ocean.
She
brought a clad of earth in her beaks.
****
Swarog
took the clad of earth and kneaded it between the palms.
"Warm
it, beauteous Sun! Light it up, bright Moon! Blow it, wild Winds! From this
damp clad we shall make Mother Earth, the Breadwinner."
The Sun
warmed the Earth, the Moon lighted her up, the Winds blew her. At last the
Winds blew it off from the palms of Swarog and she fall on the vast Ocean. The
Sun heated it and Mother Earth was baked with crust on it. The Moon cooled her.
Thus
Swarog created Mother Earth. He placed under it three underworlds, three
hellish kingdoms.
To prevent
the Earth from running away again in the depths of the Ocean, Roathe born
beneath her Yousha, the mighty Serpent. His fortune is hard - he had to hold
Mother Earth through years, through centuries and milleniums.
Thus,
Sira, Mother Earth, was borne. Thus she rests on the Serpent. When the Serpent
moves Sira, Mother Earth, shakes.
SONG 2
"Tell
us, Gamayoun, the wise bird, how is the world under heaven is created? How were
the heavenly forces borne, how was born bright Swarozhitch? And tell us of the
black forces! And of the first fight of Good with Evil, of the victory of Truth
over Lie!"
"I
won't hide what I know..."
***
The Duck
bathed in the sea, the grey one washed her in the sea and came to the banks.
She Ruffled herself on the steep bank and cried out:
"O,
thee, the dear sea, the blue sea! O, thee, mother Sira, the Earth! I am in
pain, I feel dizzy - two forces are hidden in me, in my eggs there rest Yav and
Nav."
And the
Duck laid her eggs, not simple eggs, but magical eggs. One had iron shell, the
other - pure gold shell.
The golden
egg, filled with the mights of Yav, broke up and therein flew away the Eagle
and raised high heading to the Sun, the beauteous.
And
Alkonost, the bird of dawn, which lays her eggs where the Earth ends and begins
the sea, flitted to follow it. And they were followed by the strong-winged
birds Stratim. When these birds ruffle, the blue sea sways, the winds blow wild
and the great waves raise one after another.
And then,
there, in the blue sky, rose the wise word, Gamayoun.
But what
are those birds, soaring over the fields? Those are falcon flocks - Finnist and
Rarog, the grey bluish falcons. They hover over the fields.
***
Suddenly
the winds wailed and the thunder deafened – the breaking of the iron egg. From
the egg filled with the miight of Nav there appeared the black Raven, son of
the grey Duck. The raven soared over the Mother Earth, brushing against her
with edge of its wings. Where it brushed against her, there appeared cracks
forming deep ravines. Where it shed its feathers there rose ranges of
mountains, unsurmountable.
And a back
flock of birds followed the Raven, the birds, born of Nav: the swans Ovida with
mournful faces, and thereafter – the strong-winged Grifons and Magurs, and
thereafter - the sweet voiced Sirins, whose sad songs intoxicate the mind and
magically call to the kingdom of death.
The Sun
was clouded with the birds. The fields were filled with crow and cry of them.
***
Here
Swarog struck with his heavy hammer on the hot Altar stone and the sparks flew
off to the sky. Thus Swarog created the bright forces and his heavenly army.
One of the
sparks fell on Sira, the Mother Earth. The Earth caught the it, lit a fire and
blew it to the blue sky. In this whiirlfire, in its bright cleansing flames,
there appeared light-giving bright Semargl, the Fire-god. The bright god like
Sun the Beauteous, lights the whole Universe.
Semargl,
the Fire-god rides on silver-white horse with golden mane.
His flag
is smoke, his horse is fire. When he passes through the wide fields, he leaves
black scorched tracks behind.
Then
suddenly wailed the wild winds and from its whirl there appeared angry Air-god,
the mighty Swarozhitch-Ctribog.
He blew
over the mountains, blew over the houses. He flit out underneath the clouds,
fell on the Earth and again rose high, inflating the great flames.
There
creeped the Black Serpent to that stone and struck the Altar with hammer. And
there flew black sparks over the World-under-Heaven. Thus the black forces were
borne - the fierce multiheaded serpents, and all other evil spirits of waters
and Earth.
***
What's the
noise in the sky like thunders? It is the birds that have come flying in the
sky, they have gathered to batte. It is the battle of Truth and False. The forces
of Nav is fighting with Yav, the very Life fighting with the Death.
The bright
flocks have seen the black flocks. They see: The black force has flocked near
the Altar stone. With fierce screeches and screams they fly down to attack the
black birds.
Below, the
falcon Finist came afly to the stone, to the nest of the Black Raven. Finist
caught it by the wings and blood dripped down. The Raven prayed:
"Have
mercy upon me, the bright Falcon, leave me to my helpless youngsters."
"I
would let you go, when I would pluck your wings and scatter your feathers in
the wind.
A young
gray bluish Falcon saw the lonely Swan swimming in the blue sea. The Falcon
attacked it, killed and tore in pieces. It drained the blood from the wings,
scattered feathers in the winds; fluffs flew off to the sky and bones fell on
the sea-bottom.
Thus the
bright birds fought fierecely. The Truth fought with the False. The False
wanted to win the Truth but the Truth won the False. The Truth rose to the
Heavens, to the heavenly Great Ancestor. The False alighted to the Earth.
In a clean
wide field two forces combated face to face: god Semargl with its heavenly
mights and the monstrous Serpent with its black mights. It was not just a
whirl-fire rotating in the sky, it was Semargl himself, the heavenly might
against the fierce Serpent.
Swarozhitch was burning the black might, treading the black serpent,
stabbing it with its spear, throwing its heads in the blue sea. The son of
Swarog burnt the Evil spreading everywhere in form of fire.
He came to
the fierce Serpent, the black Serpent with multiple of heads, with multiple of
tails. But Swarozhitch too had thousands of firy eyes, thousands of firy teeth.
The combat
broke out dreadfully, the black clouds covered the sky. The son of Swarog and
heavenly Roathe burnt the black Serpent. Semargl turned into the bright falcon,
the bird of Rarog with firy feathers, and attacked the enemy. The Serpent
called for the black forces, covered the world with darkness, extinguished the
fire.
The Earth
shook under the combat. The mighty Serpent Yusha singed under it. The blue sea
stirred. The whole World-under-Heaven was horrified.
The bright
falcon flew far, to the blue sea. But he couldn't retain his his might. And
then Sun the Beauteous faded and sank into the dark sea. The Black Serpent
drove him back and covered Sira, the Mother Earth, with darkness.
Then
Swarozhitch rose to the Heavens, to his father Swarog. The fierce black Serpent
chased him and shouted like thunder:
"I
have conquered the Earth, I have conquered the World-underr-Heaven!"
In the
heavenly blacksmith's shop there was fire. But it was not ordinary fire. It was
god Swarog himself dancing in the furnace. Stribog blew through the skin mighty
winds and the heavenly flames rose, sparks scattered in the winds and fell like
thunders. The twelve helpers of Rebei were striking on the anvil, making a
might steel plow.
They
answered the black Serpent back:
"Thee, the fierce black Serpent, the lord of darkness, lick up the three
heavenly firmaments, all the three gates into the blacksmith's shop. Then we
shall sit on your tongues and you will become the king of the Universe."
The Black
Serpent licked the three firmaments, llicked the three gates. By this time the
mighty plow was ready.
Swarog
with his son Swarozhitch caught him with tongs by his tongues and harnessed him
in the heavy plow.
And they
said to the black Serpent:
- Now we
shall devide the World-under-Heaven, the Earth, among us. On the right from the
boundary will be the kingdom of Swarog, and on the left - the Serpent's.