Poem
Maya Sarishvili
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted,And like a bud,
Healthy, tender –
The big table threw off a little table,
And the big chair threw off a little chair.
There are two bookcases,
A dying one and a new one –
With pinpoint-sized books and with tender glass.
But from the thick foot if the Goliath grand piano
Grew out a piano the size of a little finger.
How good!
With just limpid smiles I shall water the rooms
And I shall raise things my own way,
Like flowers.
© Translation: 2007, Donald Rayfield
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted
![](/media/4/11208_org_07_theroots.gif)
და როგორც ყლორტი -
ჯანსაღი, თოთო,
ამოიყარა დიდმა მაგიდამ პატარა მაგიდა
და ამოიყარა დიდმა სკამმა პატარა სკამი.
კარადაც ორია -
მომაკვდავი და ახალი -
წერტილისხელა წიგნებით და ჩვილი შუშებით.
ხოლო გოლიათი როიალის სქელი ფეხიდან
ამოიზარდა ნეკისხელა მეორე როიალი.
რა კარგია!
სულ ანკარა ღიმილებით მოვრწყავ ოთახებს
და დავზრდი ნივთებს ჩემებურად,
როგორც ყვავილებს.
© 2001, Maya Sarishvili
From: Covering Reality
Publisher: Merani, Tbilisi
From: Covering Reality
Publisher: Merani, Tbilisi
Poems
Poems of Maya Sarishvili
Close
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted,And like a bud,
Healthy, tender –
The big table threw off a little table,
And the big chair threw off a little chair.
There are two bookcases,
A dying one and a new one –
With pinpoint-sized books and with tender glass.
But from the thick foot if the Goliath grand piano
Grew out a piano the size of a little finger.
How good!
With just limpid smiles I shall water the rooms
And I shall raise things my own way,
Like flowers.
© 2007, Donald Rayfield
From: Covering Reality
From: Covering Reality
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted
The roots of the objects in the room have rotted,And like a bud,
Healthy, tender –
The big table threw off a little table,
And the big chair threw off a little chair.
There are two bookcases,
A dying one and a new one –
With pinpoint-sized books and with tender glass.
But from the thick foot if the Goliath grand piano
Grew out a piano the size of a little finger.
How good!
With just limpid smiles I shall water the rooms
And I shall raise things my own way,
Like flowers.
© 2007, Donald Rayfield
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