The nerve raised its brow, <br />Like a snow-slip came down. <br />O God, how many impudent souls <br />Have already turned into copses… <br />But virtue not always suppresses vice… <br />Look at the mercy <br />Turning into the worm, <br />And bullying the roots of the vine… <br /> <br />Look at the man you have trusted <br />He is a traitor now, <br />Look at your former friend: <br />He harrows all he had plundered, <br />He harrows all you had ploughed… <br />The bud on the branch is on its guard, <br />With a cartridge in its minute heart. <br />It will burst in no time, rise in the air, <br />And blind that traitor and betrayer. <br /> <br />But you still prefer <br />Spring to winter, <br />The bud resting on the vine – <br />The symbol of your country… <br />Wind embroiders tales <br />In the evergreen garden <br />Of sadness and fortune, <br />And you, too, chased by verses, <br />Fight against the torture. <br /> <br />27.01.2003 <br /> <br />Translated from Georgian<br /><br />Janri Gogeshvili<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/those-chased-by-verses/
