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You just die, – you just pass away,

And it’ll be all right, OK…

Your wife will read the Psalms

In a soft voice and prey.

She’ll weep a little and lament,

She’ll wear mourning dresses and fret,

And whisper to the dearest

Daughters and sons:

“My kids, your father

Has turned to dust…”

You just die, – you just depart,

And it’ll be OK… it’ll be all right.

The violets and the snowdrops

Will wipe out the winter,

The tiny bird will weave

Passion with twitter,

And the breeze

Will sing night’s tale to the leaves…

The widow will look in the mirror,

And take a pencil in her hand…

No make-up is needed, you know,

For a rose drooping her head…

She may notice your gaze,–

The zeal heavy with years,

She may see the sham

Mirrored in your eyes…

Then she’ll smile… and shed tears…

You’ll pity her and think

You’d better stay with her,

You’d better look

After the cornfield of your desire…

You’d better work with all your heart,

And reap what you have sown…

And let your beautiful wife

Be a violet to you… or a rose…


         Janri Gogeshvili

Translated from Georgian