The Odd Man Poem by Tsira Gogeshvili

In olden times,
Where there
Lived the oddest man,
And where
The azalea
Scented the air,
Like a parachute
The skies landed:
The passenger
Was the moon-maid.
You should have seen
How that man,
How that dwarf
Was amazed.
He rolled his single eye
On his forehead,
Like on the orbit,
With a double rotation
Of a planet –
Of a planet that rotates,
And his single ear,
His only ear,
Like a butterfly
Rested on his brains…
And that only ear
(Let’s return to that ear)
Perceived the sound
Of any hertz,
And listened dumbly,
Like a spy
To the white Galaxy’s din,
At times, without
Its own will…
It, the poor
“World-listener”,
Heard so many things:
A cry of triumph,
Some melody,
Some noise,
Some jingles…
And then he craved,
He longed for the chaos,
Just for the chaos
And discord,
And two ears,
So that
Along the tunnel
The naughty sounds
Could walk…
But that’s not all:
His eye – the blazing orbit
Absorbed all the colors
Of the world,
But it reflected and perceived
The whiteness:
It didn’t absorb that tone;
And that’s why
The man wished he had
No eyes,
No eyes at all,
But had the wondrous,
Snow-black stone.
That strange man
Had very, very
Fragile hands,
And very tiny, weak feet.
He sat in the swamp,
On the water-lily,
Open-mouthed he sat on it.
He patiently waited
For the miracle…
And then, it happened, at last:
The moon-child
Appeared in the air…
There was the sunset,
There was all one could wish…
And nothing at all
Was there...
The snow-white maiden
With her strong,
Delicate fingers
Grasped his ear,
And dragged him up
To the heavens,
And our “giant dwarf”
Fell in love
With the “marvel”,
His dreams came true
All of a sudden.
And what happened then?
He clung to the sky,
He seduced
The sky’s shades,
He chatted, he talked,
But dumb he remained…
He announced himself
A rescuer,
Swelled out like a balloon,
Like a tiny balloon,
And soon
He coquettishly
Ensured himself,
He girded up his loins…
He was happy,
He was glad,
That little dwarf,
That lonesome lad.
Don’t judge him,
Let him alone.
He’s not to blame…
It’s not his fault.
He mustn’t be in disfavor,
Because he failed
To perceive
The azalea’s flavor…


Gorgia - 1981.
Tsira Gogeshvili