The Cruel Response Poem by Maya Sarishvili

You told me that
I should have slain
at least two of these four children,
but I couldn't choose which ones…
And meanwhile, they've grown up.
They can protect themselves now.
You can no longer kill them easily.
If I had only one,
I would have kissed her four times
and nobody would have told her
of those who died for the other three kisses.
I behaved unwisely,
couldn't dig out my children
with a sterile hoe, like digging out tonsils,
and now I have to apologize…
I've always thought that if I do what you say,
my belly would grow regardless
and through my entire life,
I would carry as many foothills
as children—I would have aborted those in my body
and then these hills would be graves—
more terrifying, eternal.
You told me that
I should have butchered
at least two of these four children,
but I couldn't choose which ones,
and meanwhile, they grow up,
lay their fingers upon my cheeks
and start speaking…

Translated from the Georgian by Timothy Kercher and Nene Giorgadze