Blues
T Tsira Gogeshvili
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BLUES
The startled note rose
By a half tone – in fear…
On B flat froze the despair.
Why does the icy heart
Tinkle and ring
In the sunbeams?
Isn’t afraid of turning into rain…
Of going with the wind in spring?
The sax o phone complains
In the saloon…
Blues – reproach and delusion…
I hum bass guitar’s sad bars,
Nostalgia wipes out tricks of vision,
And the wind, the chill breeze
Doesn’t scare any more
The maple-tree and its leaves…
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