There is no sun on heavenly arch,
No breezes blow, woods give no start
With joy …
Without love there’s
Neither beauty,
Nor immortality there is
Without love.
But, oh, so different is
Love, the latest love.
Same as autumnal bloom,
Often better than the primal one.
It never calls for stormy,
Savage passions,
Or youthful zeal, for voice outloud
It never calls …
Grown shy and wild
In autumn cold,
Spring’s tender blossoms
It resembles not …
In place of breeze
Storm’s fondling it,
In place of flame caress so quiet
It rounds up.
And withers, withers
Love, the latest love,
It withers wistful, soft,
With doleful charm.
And there’s on earth
No immortality itself,
No immortality itself there's on the earth
Without love!!!
Comments (6)
Love, the latest love, Same as autumnal bloom Often better than the primal one. For those of us in the autumn of our lives, the poet's lovely translation does yield hope (sans withers) within Galaktion Tabidze's assessment of a world Without Love. Thank you for sharing both your time and talents to expose us to poets from your country.
without love
not the same
on earth or heaven
Not mine, I only translated, but does it matter?!
In appreciation of your efforts, dear poets, on this little corner! Poetry for ever!