The taste of the common day,
In your soul lost its flavor,
And the woman’s love you’ve lost,
Melted somewhere else… forever.
And someone inherited the kingdom,
That tired you out – didn’t spare…
Someone mourns over the old times,
And loads you with his despair.
Someone keeps frowning at the future,
And freezes the grapes of the phrase,
But the worthless world, nevertheless,
Praises a man to be praised…
12.12.2OO1.
Translated from Georgian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem