Tsira Gogeshvili Poems

A poet is a grown-up child, anyhow,
He couldn’t compose, otherwise…
A poet is an adorer of queerness,
A bit - willful, a bit - precise…
...

Sing something for me, sing,
while of yours think fly as dandelions.
Sing something for me, sing,
while the rain still rings only for us,
...

I’m soothed, I’m cheered up;
For me the sea craves.
Spread are for me its blue wings,
With my frame, I feel the waves.
...

Puzzling dialogues grow facile,
April is a month of dates,
The cherry-plum blossoms in April,
And for the love it happily waits.
...

The poets rustle in the woods of verses.
...

To Emily Dickinson _
my etemal sister

The horror of the shattered mirror,
...

Give me your right-palm,
I'll tell fortunes to you,
As a fortuneteller -
As a maiden -gipsy....
...

You're blue stream and transparent so,
I’m tired of dreaming on a wild-road,
I'd sing but I’ll sing to stars over sky,
But I won’t drink you to thirst for, never
...

DANCING DROPS


I did not want it that,
...