TO KHATIA

I get so tired,
With unimaginable speed
Things, news, my body rush towards me.
Your words can no longer reach me,
They shatter like the hours
In pursuit of me
And pathetically pile up in pieces.
I can no longer stop
To record in your eyes the ray of light's explanation.
From afar I shoot swarms of dry dyes at you
And I speak to you in a tongue-tied language
Which is entrusted to other dark-coloured adults.
But when you get milk from me
I see calmly swaying
Under the skin of your temple
That silent and pale landscape of ours.

Translation: 2007, Donald Rayfield

by Maya Sarishvili

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