Mr. X went out and spat,
He thought himself clean and nice.
His dog, too, passed water…
That spittle turned into a puddle,
Not without the help of other guys.
A man splashed into that puddle,
His wife turned him out: “You smell bad! ”
She thought of Mr. X: “how tidy he is…
-You remind me of a lilac bush-
He whispers, and bows his head…”
13.03.2000
Translated from Georgian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Glorious intertwining of misunderstanding with irony - of which two the latter has the power over the other - therefore once again it may be said: it is not so important what we believe, much more important is our attitude engendered by whatever we believe