Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Maya Sarishvili

It won’t work out this way

It won’t work out this way,
Even if you tip over a whole forest,
You won’t be able to find a single root anywhere.
The universe, when not fixed to the earth,
Is like a terrible dream.
Towns just lie about on the asphalt,
Seas are turned rigid
Wherever the earth topples over
And drift off afar –
Like colossal razors,
They slide uncontrollably.
And how eagerly all of us,
One by one,
Strip the old-fashioned veins from our bodies –
And very soon
Even the bees can’t sting any more
Our porcelain children, which are meant to be set out
On the grand pianos.

It won’t work out this way

ასე არ გამოვა -
ტყეც რომ ამოაყირავო,
ერთ ფესვს ვერ იპოვი ვერსად.
საზარელი სიზმარივითაა
მიწაზე დაუმაგრებელი სამყარო.
ქალაქები უბრალოდ დევს ასფალტზე.
გაშეშებული ზღვები
საითაც დედამიწა გადაბრუნდება,
იქით ცურდებიან -
უშველებელი სამართებლებივით
სრიალებენ უკონტროლოდ...
და ყველანი რა მონდომებით,
რა თითო-თითოდ
ვაცლით სხეულებიდან ძველმოდურ ძარღვებს -
სულ მალე
ფუტკრებიც ვეღარ დაკბენენ
ჩვენს როიალებზე შემოსასმელ
ფაიფურის შვილებს...
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It won’t work out this way

It won’t work out this way,
Even if you tip over a whole forest,
You won’t be able to find a single root anywhere.
The universe, when not fixed to the earth,
Is like a terrible dream.
Towns just lie about on the asphalt,
Seas are turned rigid
Wherever the earth topples over
And drift off afar –
Like colossal razors,
They slide uncontrollably.
And how eagerly all of us,
One by one,
Strip the old-fashioned veins from our bodies –
And very soon
Even the bees can’t sting any more
Our porcelain children, which are meant to be set out
On the grand pianos.

It won’t work out this way

It won’t work out this way,
Even if you tip over a whole forest,
You won’t be able to find a single root anywhere.
The universe, when not fixed to the earth,
Is like a terrible dream.
Towns just lie about on the asphalt,
Seas are turned rigid
Wherever the earth topples over
And drift off afar –
Like colossal razors,
They slide uncontrollably.
And how eagerly all of us,
One by one,
Strip the old-fashioned veins from our bodies –
And very soon
Even the bees can’t sting any more
Our porcelain children, which are meant to be set out
On the grand pianos.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère