by marikiaTbilisi, Georgia
Nov 2010 1,214 Views 7 comments
Silently to Myself
My pure verse is clean, its rhythm - song of candor,
Path of devotion leads to heart.
I'm counting "sores of being" slowly,
One at a time.
A poem is the tomb of poets
(And poets, I suppose, will understand my point).
Last night again I drained white night with vigor,
And now the moon waits patient at my door.
Path of devotion leads to heart.
I'm counting "sores of being" slowly,
One at a time.
A poem is the tomb of poets
(And poets, I suppose, will understand my point).
Last night again I drained white night with vigor,
And now the moon waits patient at my door.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2010
About this poem:
Just another translation of a Georgian poet.Poems entered on these pages are copyrighted by the authors who entered them. They cannot be reproduced without the author's written consent. © Copyright 2001-2024. All rights reserved.
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