Bücher von Merab Giorgadze

My years are heading already downhill,The footprints of the past have a cold feeling. I wander through fogs with my old shouldersAnd with my unfulfilled overdue dreams. My poem cannot be more rhythmic than yours. Raiment of the ploughman attracts my rhythms. Your words are the beautiful play of the leopardess,And my poems rise from the moistened earth.