Even the love,
Having sent out its roots,
Is not eternal and endless…
We’ve made it up,
We’ve invented it
Just to save ourselves,
And we’re afraid to lose the thing
That hasn’t ever been our wealth.
4.04.1978
Translated from Georgian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Beautiful words Janri..thank you for sharing them with us....