Semiramide
T Tsira Gogeshvili
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In the still gardens
The breeze
Breathes in
The sacred rustle
Of the malachite
Silks…
And the warm rays
Of the dusk,
Like Sappho’s
Slender fingers
Embrace, the heaven
And the whole space.
O treacherous heart!
What altered you?
What made you grow so faithful?
I need no anguish,
No more feast
I don't need…
And proudly
Rushes by
In the emerald garden
Green-eyed
And so sorrowful
Semiramide.
Bu şiiri puanla
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