The Forests Need Beasts...
Desire, wish sincere or
Rush without shore.
Forest need beasts.
Man impressions in passion
If you will perceive the wisdom
In love you will
Get another pleasure
And then you will break in passion
In your mind.
23.04.2005
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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The Dream Of The Heart
Hundreds of readers have ceased reading,
The ignorant are turned into censors,
The party man’s image is flourished
By the hints and notions of a mentor.
Children and parents cling to the screen.
The dream doesn’t blaze, it’s forsaken…
Once the haughty fled the sparks of verses,
Today frankness is strewed with ashes.
But the dreaming heart never stops,
It beats… it beats, and throbs…
7.04.2000
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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I’ve Lost One Verse With Tinkling Lines
I’ve lost one verse
With tinkling lines,
I’ve lost a verse,
It’s somewhere else…
I sought the leaf,
But couldn’t find,
Even from the disc
It vanished.
I cried and cried
For that little verse,
In my soul it lay
Like a winged word,
It lay there
Like grief and anguish.
That bright and sincere thought –
That verse remained in the past.
I’m tired of grief and sorrow,
Sorrow has seized me at last…
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Eyes Lassos, Too, Are Strained…
The sinful night melts in the sky,
Force bears a deep passion,
Juice is got by squeezing grapes;
Such fall causes ascension.
Then the juice turns into wine,
Into the wine – the source of passion,
And in the end, that very force
Creates love and affection.
Later, hunted by that intrigue,
The willful heirs are brought to birth,
And eyes lassos, too, are strained…
They, too, stand firmly on the earth…
24.12.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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A Rascal Weaves Selfish Thoughts
A worthless man demands justice,
Complains of his misery to God,
Of those who, cause him trouble…
He forgets that he is a fraud.
A worthless man demands justice,
Reproaches others for being grim,
He says that he is robbed of money,
That a woman has deceived him.
A rascal weaves worthless thoughts,
Tries to deceive even the All-Wise,
He keeps on mourning over himself,
Pretends to be honest and nice.
When he finds himself out of danger,
His prey he devours and tortures.
He gnaws away thousands of hearts,
And then, mourns over his fortune.
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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O God, Show Mercy…
O GOD, SHOW MERCY…
O God Almighty, Our Father in Heaven,
Let go with the wind the foe’s threats;
Punish the unwise and the unworthy,
Let them hold their tongues behind the teeth.
O God Almighty, Our Father in Heaven,
Weaken the treacherous men…
They just pretend to be Thy servants,
For their own good, let them lament.
O God Almighty, Our Father in Heaven,
Show mercy to those who serve their land;
Without harming their own country,
Let them breed their descent…
O God Almighty, Our Father in Heaven,
Let us rise – wipe out the feud.
Show mercy, save us, heal our souls,
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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All Hail To The Purple Race
All hail to the purple race
That flutters from heaven
And the space beyond.
It is to bestow mercy
On us, on our kinsmen,
But it will descend
With tears and lament.
All hail to the purple race.
The scent of violets makes
Dizzy and drunk any lass,
And Love – the sacred feeling
Beautifies all
That is heavenly and thrilling…
All hail to the purple race.
“What nonsense! ”
May someone say.
That race annoys many,
Even the sages,
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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Life Was Dozing, The Lady-bird Flew Over The Verge Of The Death
The world was dozing,
It was tired and worn.
“Man is supported by man,
A fence – by blackthorn! ”
That precept was well-known,
But entirely forgotten…alas!
The death, too, slumbered,
The day was colorless…
The guys remaining chums
By chance,
Had washed away all their talent
And all their heavenly donation,
Women and girls scattered in the streets
Were seized by the shameful passion.
Men wanted to whitewash themselves in solitude,
They craved for solitude, for isolation.
The current – slow, calm, but yet naughty,
Suppressed them… they were tied to the life,
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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The Homeland Attired In The Chasuble Of Nerves…
A muscle is a muscle, and nothing else,
It is armed forces, power and weapon.
And the nerve of the muscle can
Ascend the mounts of reason…
It resists the power of the assault,
And the invader, too, seems exhausted.
Power is power, and force is force…
It ploughs even the mountain slopes.
A muscle is a muscle, and nothing else,
It is weapon, armed forces and power.
The troops of those muscles,
The muscles themselves
Make a very durable armor.
Muscles protect veins –
The current of life and being,
The willpower’s invisible shield.
The muscle of the heart
Is always on duty,
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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The Prince Fell For The Fair Maiden…
An allegorical ballad
Love bore the tale,
The black-eyed belle.
The prince loved her,
Despite the spell.
He married her,
Became a king.
The girl’s too shy
To be a queen.
She dreamed of dales,
Of sweet carnations.
A bird in her soul –
Her consolation!
The king’s cruel mum
And sisters said:
“We’ve brought you up,
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poem by Janri Gogeshvili
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