A travesty with a grotesque indication <br /> <br />It’s time we stripped off our garments, <br />And attired in our own sins… <br />It’s time to take off our clothes, <br />To throw away the queer fig leaves. <br />We must feel the flavor of our nudity. <br />Many of us: Ben, John or Pete <br />Spy into other people’s affairs, <br />And, at times, even boast of it. <br />It’s high time for Brenda or Betty <br />To trust and to believe us. <br />Let’s stop gloating over our shame, <br />Our aimless regret and remorse. <br />Let’s alter things, and wipe out <br />The suspicion sown in the Garden. <br />It’s high time we took off our clothes, <br />High time to take off those garments… <br />Let’s take off our clothes, <br />And attire in our own sins. <br />Time to leave in the past <br />The suspicious fig leaves! <br /> <br />3.O9.2OO2. <br /> <br />Translated from Georgian<br /><br />Janri Gogeshvili<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/high-time-we-went-to-our-harbor/
