Acute sensations aroused by the rush towerds the mystery of heavens…
Short-spoken reflactions and estimations of the sacred wishes sheltered in the heart of passions…
Images created to enrich and cherish the world of little ones…
These are the leading ideas of the poetess’s colleced verses…
Most of the poems of the given book were published in the
Periodical press twenty ... more »
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Tsira Gogeshvili Poems
' A GROWN-UP CHILD
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 something for me, sing, while of yours think fly as dandelions. Sing something for me, sing, while the rain still rings only for us,
' AT MOONLESS NIGHT, WE SEEK HUNTERS...
The poets rustle in the woods of verses.
' THE SAND PALACE
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.
' The King Of Poets
Puzzling dialogues grow facile, April is a month of dates, The cherry-plum blossoms in April, And for the love it happily waits.
' As Maiden - Gipsy....
Give me your right-palm, I'll tell fortunes to you, As a fortuneteller - As a maiden -gipsy....
Beyond The Skies
To Emily Dickinson _ my etemal sister The horror of the shattered mirror,
' Blue stream
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
' The Rainy Truth
The rainy truth Weather forecasters Will not always justify
' TO THE SLEEPLESS BELLS
TO THE SLEEPLESS BELLS (TO THE POET CHUMMED UP WITH A VERSEZ...)
* * * DANCING DROPS
DANCING DROPS I did not want it that,
'AM A CERTAIN POETESS
I am a certain poetess Strewing about the rhymes. My heart blazes on and on, Its fire burns at all times.
You gave me wings, And I could not fly...
(4 April 1928 - 28 May 2014)
(March 26, 1874 – January 29, 1963)
(10 December 1830 – 15 May 1886)
(26 April 1564 - 23 April 1616)
(12 July 1904 – 23 September 1973)
(1 February 1902 – 22 May 1967)
Edgar Allan Poe
(19 January 1809 - 7 October 1849)
(31 May 1819 - 26 March 1892)
(31 October 1795 – 23 February 1821)
' A GROWN-UP CHILD
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…
“Hunting is a game of chance, ”
We’ve forgotten that well-known phrase,
And we must remember that kids
Are forbidden to play such games.