WOMAN’S LIPS ARE DEAD WITHOUT KISSES…
A kind of humoresque
The blameless virgin craves for love,
Of love she thinks from dusk to dawn,
But the woman of riper years
Needs other love – too deep for tears.
Oh, yes! She was guided by the caprice,
But now, she is alert and wise:
Let him not be a handsome prince,
To her he must be nice.
She wishes him to fondle her,
To kiss her tenderly, with love,
To be reliable and steady,
And to cherish his better half.
She hates to be forsaken…
Yes, she’s virtuous and upright,
But she still prays for love and ardor,
She dreams of thrilling nights.
Abandoned lips can’t hide their dryness…
She tries to smash the fiery passion.
She fails to conceal her lust for love,
But wants to be above suspicion…
The last hope dies and fades away,
Her lips are so dead and alone!
She has to save up her desires,
She dreams from dusk to dawn.
Translated from Georgian
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