Prophet in exile

They didn’t want me at home, and nobody knows me here. Here, the sun doesn’t shine; at home, it didn’t shine on me. Nobody in Moscow cares that the peasants of Ukraine are driven into the ground and buried in the earth. God seems to wear down the people’s goodness, to condem the virtuous and reward the wicked. I cursed the cruelty of the gentry but nobody listened. The holy wind blows and nobody wants to be saved.