To the distinguished ones
who remain unnoticed
They think they’ve left you out…
Even friends turn away their eyes,
As you carry the future in your soul,
As you come from the lap of the skies.
Don’t be angry with me, my dear.
Sorrow falls on the stars like rain.
You remain a poet in this world,
A tamer of the space you remain.
You’ve fondled the blessed word zealously,
I know, the heavens you’ve reached.
I must confess: there is still something,
That must be improved and achieved.
The daybreak on the path of the nightfall,
Neither wealth nor treasure! No cash!
Prayers with the overflowing chalice,
The grief of the tortured flesh…
The moon enjoying the rustle of thoughts,
The verses, in the heavenly frames…
Your roots are still in the verse,
The moonlight fondles your aims.
1O.O5.2OO6.
Translated from Georgian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem