The sacred grief won’t let you age.
The moonlight, too, melts the ice.
You will behold the divine scenes,
There flows the torrent of respite.
The lonely grief won’t let you age,
The call of the soul you’ll hear.
High time you spread like the sails
All that is precious and dear…
The lyrical thought won’t let you age,
At you the moon-maiden smiles.
You’ll embroider the marvelous visions
To brighten up your past times…
You’ll never lock the door of your chamber,
You won’t be defeated by the vice.
Your wishes and your hopes will save you.
The moonlight, too, melts the ice.
31.O5.2OO2.
Translated from Georgian
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
the moon light too melt the ice! a claasic line...the poem stressing on quality and virtues in everything including one's thoughts and writes...impressively presented 10+