/Shen unda gitkhra mtskhovrebo

Gaghma perdobis p’irasa/

/Didi khania lamazo

Mchagrav maqeneb ziansa/

/Guls gamichine ch’riloba

Gunebas khalisiansa/

Ts’ameba geqo maride

Otsnebas burusiansa

/Gzas ek’lebians mashore

Maghirse qvaviliansa/

/Davgmo t’anjuli sitsotskhle

Gavudge khalisiansa/

/An tu mghalot’ob isats tkvi

Gzas me ar vzogav mt’riansa/

/Dzvirad dausom tsilobas

Vints gind daso makhiansa/

Shen tavs aravis davutmob

Isev dghes davtmob mziansa

Shens sakhels arvis vaghirseb

Vpitsav mtebs qinuliansa

/Mkholod imattan nu chamotvli

Zog rom qels uts’evs tmiansa/

/Ar vitkhov dananebasa

Ar shavkhvets’nior shriaksa/

/Me ar vuqureb sinazes

Arts ch’reli k’abis shrialsa/

Arts silamazes vuqureb

Arts enit lakardiansa

/Mkholod vet’rpobi khasiats

Sitsotskhles sinatliansa/

/Vgmob veridebi iset mzes

P’irs badavs sirtskhviliansa/

/Mash saboloo otsnebas

Mivandob ghamis ts’qvdiadsa/

Translation:

A Love Letter

What the night will bring, I cannot say

But tomorrow Sunday will come

I want to write a poem

Before the morning arrives

I will send you the poem in a letter

Your hands will be honored by the sun

I want to say to you,

Resident of the opposite slope

That it is a long time, my dear

That I am oppressed and hurt by you

You wounded my heart

And my buoyant nature

I've had enough of this torture,

This foggy dream

Distance me from this thorny road

Give me a flowery path

Enough with this torturous life

I want to live joyfully

If you betray me, then say it

For I show no mercy to the road’s enemies

I don't care who you want -

I won’t give you up to anyone

Today I prefer the sun

I swear on the icy mountains

I won't let others utter your name.

Only don't consider me as

A man who flirts with others

I am not asking you to pity me

I am not begging you

I don't look at tenderness

Nor the rustling of colorful dresses

Nor does language matter

I don’t look at beauty

I worship only character, the light of life

I refuse the sun who bows her head in shame

So finally I give my dreams

To the night’s gloom

K’ldeshi jikhvebis mimqoli

Ekhla pekhze dzliv vdgebia

Dznelia akit ts’asvlai

Vazhk’atss gind ebas mkhrebia

Pkhizloben rogorts mglebia

Am tskhveba k’veri oblisa

Makhsovs met’qoda bebia

T’olebs k’i maints ajobebs

Obols tan hqveba bedia

Ded-mama mashin momk’vdara

Omar rom daghbadebia

Memr mshoblis t’kbili alersi

Arodis ar mghisebia

Arts makhovs sakhe imati

Ar vitsi ra rigebia

Sitsotskhle momets’amlebis

Khan k’inagh gavgizhdebia

Chem khelit tavis mok’vlai

Ramdenjer mipikrebia

Mudam skhvat kheltad ts’akhedva

Ra ch’irad gavizrdebia

Ch’reli rat aris sopeli

Vpikrob ver gamigebia

Am kveqnad maints bevria

Mdidari gharibebia

Ramdenits ts’amovizarde

Tantan daberda mt’rebia

Rasats kveqana shvreboda

Qvela me dambralebia

K’iavots daisveneben

Ekhla khom davshordebia

Dideba shentvis upalo

Siaves ara vshrebia

Ar vitsi ras memdurian

Guldidad vazhk’atsebia

Zogtavit tvalqurobai

Me aros mik’adrebia

Kal-vazhi avis znisai

Akhlos ar mik’arvebia

Dachagrulebis dachagvra

Ertkhel ar mompikrebia

Mudam mts’qenia augi

Tu ra vis dauqmedia

Me arvis gamovktsevivor

K’i gaktseulan skhvebia

Chem gamo bidzashvilebsa

Sirtskhvil aravis zdebia

Chemad magivrad chem mt’erta

Khel arvis gaurevia

Taod mimitsav k’iseri

Tu ravin mt’rebi mrgebia

Bevr mts’are gamik’vnet’avis

Gul k’i ar gamit’ekhia

Sik’etes bevra minakhav

Mk’vekhrebzed k’idev met’ia

T’ialo ts’utisopelo, Gkhedav rom shaitsvlebia

Translation:

Orphanhood

Omar from Tusheti recites:

I will stay in Siberia

And bear the misfortune of families

Who have died and been forgotten

I have been exiled for twenty years

I am frozen far into the ice

Once a brave man,

Just twenty-five years of age

I have already grown grey

I was a mountain hunter but

Today it is hard for me to stand on my feet

It is very hard to be here –

You need much strength

Those Siberian bears are vigil, like wolves

Like my grandmother once said:

Orphans’ bread doesn’t bake.

My parents died when I was born

I never felt the sweet care of my parents

I don’t even remember their faces

My life has been poisoned and sometimes I go crazy

How many times have I thought of killing myself?

Whenever I look at others I wonder why I was born…

Why is the world in different colors?

I ponder and I don’t understand

How there are so many in our world, both rich and poor.

As I grow old, so do my enemies

I am blamed for the wrongs others have committed

Dear God -

I have never committed wrongs

I don’t know why they are against me, these proud people

I have never spied, like others have

I have never been close to a woman

I have never thought to oppress the oppressed

I have never tried to escape, like others have from me

How upset I was when they dared to reproach me

Thanks to me, my brother’s children have never been shamed

No one has fought my enemies for me

I have protected my own neck whenever I had to

I have not broken hearts, nor have I upset people

I have lived with kindness more than I have with boasting

Oh, You – You Brief Life!

I see you

In all the ways you have changed.

Chven Gviqvars K’avk’asioni

Text: Ivane Ts’ik’lauri

(scroll down for English translation)

Chven gviqvars k’avk’asioni

Gmirebis namukhlaria

Aema mtat gulisatvina

Ts’qdebodes mam-p’ap’ania

Jach’v ver udzlebda bektari

Gmirt hkonda mk’lavis jania

Mudam mt’ris molodinesa

Ts’elt shaukhsnelad khmalia

Sul mzas jghani da ts’riap’i

Chokhis ubeshi paria

Khevsurt ar tkvian vazhebo

Sit’qva k’och’li da mtsdaria

Pir hkonda gaut’ekheli

Nabch’obi napikralia

Omshi uts’evlad diodes

Gmirt gaats’qvian jaria

Shin k’i ar imalebodes

Tkvian gvjoboian k’ania

Translation:

We Love the Caucasus Mountains

We love the Caucasus Mountains

The steps of heroes

Our ancestors fought

For the heart of these mountains

Wearing shirts of iron

The heroes had strong, healthy arms

They always were ready for enemies

They always had swords on them

Their cleats were always prepared

On the bosom of their chokha,¹ a shield

You cannot say about the Khevsurs²

A word lame or false

They are steadfast

Their plans discussed, analyzed

They go to war

An army of heroes

They don’t hide at home, for they

Care not about the worth of their skin

¹Part of a traditional male dress of the Caucasus. There are four versions of the garment within Georgia, and it is linked to a strong sense of national pride. Read more about the chokha here. 

²People from Khevsureti.