I Am A Beetle, A Small Beetle Poem by Tsira Gogeshvili

I AM A BEETLE, A SMALL BEETLE

I am a beetle, a small beetle,
I seize much, I don't seize little.
I like pears, as all the bugs,
At times, I jump into wine jugs.

Bless my parents, my mom and pop!
I keep myself… keep and support.
I can move like my peepers
My dear tentacles - my "nippers".

We've always been inseparable chums.
I make them sweep up all the crumbs…
I hunt at night… and I can sup
Even when I am full up.

Bless my parents, my mom and pop
I keep myself… keep and support.
I move my tentacles with grace,
I can use them in any space…

Into moustache, I can turn them,
Into whiskers, too, sometimes.
I can make the most of them,
My people look with envious eyes…

But, all at once,
I fell in love…
My soft moustache
Was almost starched…

The lady beetle, my plump lass,
Wore a beautiful black dress.
I kneeled before her,
And gave her presents:
A snow-white ruff,
A splendid necklace.

Like a wizard, I was agile,
She was the apple of my eye.
Bless her parents, her mom and pop,
I had to feed her and support…

I loved her with all my heart,
I took her everywhere I went.
I was crazy, I lost my head…
Now I mourn and I lament…

I move my tentacles with grace,
I can use them in any space.
Into moustache, I can turn them,
Into whiskers, too, sometimes,
I can make the most of them…
My people look with envious eyes.

I remember our mouths water,
I remember my lass utter:
"Let us picnic, taste nice food! "
Her wishes were holy and good.

Thus, we made for the vales,
Resting in the pleasant shades.
I was seized with love and pride
Looking at my charming bride.

Then we ran into a guy,
He stared at us, I know not why!
"I am a grouse, " said the guy
Screwing up his beady eye.

I began to put on airs,
I began to swell and boast…
Moved my tentacles with grace,
I used them in any space…

But the grouse couldn't make out
My noble tricks, and looked with doubt.
Then he pecked at my lass,
At my bride in a black dress…

I myself was saved by chance,
I jumped aside in dread,
I almost fell there perished, dead…
I cursed my parents, my mum and dad…

Now I am forsaken, lonely.
I'm so ashamed, and only
In my dream I move about
My dear tentacles… no doubt!

I regret now, my dear chums,
That I fought with tiny crumbs.
My dear tentacles - my pride,
Couldn't save my charming bride.

I am a beetle, a small beetle,
I seize much, I don't seize little.
I like pears, as all the bugs,
At times, I jump into wine jugs.
I move my tentacles with grace,
I can use them in any space…


By Tsira Gogrshvili
(Translated by A. Lekiashvili)