Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Shota Iatashvili

MONEY

My money is beautiful.
Like having a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’,
These are beautiful things,
But my money is beautiful, too.
It lies in my pocket and I can touch it –
It’s little and much loved.
It’s so enchanting without being coy,
I can show it to you again and again,
And I can fix it to my buttonhole like a tulip.

My money,
My money . . .

This is a colourful performance,
This is a poor decoration,
This the shiny skin of non-existence.

I will wave it and enter into existence,
where there is a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’.

I shall enter.
I shall enter.

A ticket for me,
And a ticket for you – be my guest.

You know, life is beautiful,
If you attain it with beautiful money.

When I become an old man,
I think I shall give my beautiful money
To the museum of life
As a permanent exhibit.

People will come and enjoy
Looking at my beautiful money.

They will stand there for a long time, excited,
Then they will go home and think about it,
What’s good about it,
When you have a beautiful life,
A beautiful house,
A beautiful poem.

They will think about it,
What’s good about it,
When your money is as beautiful
As your pregnant wife.

GELD

Mijn geld is mooi.
Kijk maar naar een bloem, een boom, de lucht,
Gioconda,
wat zijn ze mooi,
maar mijn geld is ook mooi.
Het steekt in mijn zak en ik raak het aan:
het is klein en lief.
Ook zonder opsmuk is het erg aantrekkelijk,
ik kan je het laten zien als je wil,
of als een anjer in mijn knoopsgat dragen.

Mijn geld,
mijn geld.

Geld is een kleurrijke voorstelling,
een povere decoratie,
de gave huid van het niet-bestaan.

Ik pel het van me af en stap het bestaan binnen
waar de bloem, de boom, de lucht,
Gioconda wachten.

Daar stap ik binnen.

Daar stap ik binnen.

Een kaartje voor mij,
eentje voor jou, ik betaal.

Het leven is mooi, weet je,
als je er het mooie geld voor inzet.

Ik overweeg om later,
wanneer ik oud zal zijn, mijn mooie
geld als vast museumstuk over te dragen
aan het Museum voor het Leven.

De mensen zullen langskomen en genieten
van de aanblik van mijn mooie geld.

Ze zullen lang blijven staan kijken, opgewonden,
en eenmaal thuis zullen ze bedenken
hoe goed het wel niet is
om te beschikken over een mooi leven,
een mooi huis, een mooi gedicht.

Ze zullen denken
hoe goed het wel niet is,
als je geld zo mooi is
als je zwangere vrouw.

ფული

ჩემი ფული ლამაზია.
აგერ ყვავილი, ხე, ცა,
‘ჯოკონდა’,
ისინი ლამაზები არიან,
მაგრამ ლამაზია ჩემი ფულიც.
ჯიბეში მიდევს და ხელით ვეხები -
პატარაა და საყვარელი.
ისე გაუპრანჭავად მომხიბვლელია,
შემიძლია გაჩვენოთ კიდეც,
და ღილკილოზე მივიბნიო ტიტასავით.

ჩემი ფული,
ჩემი ფული...

ის წარმოდგენაა ფერადოვანი,
ის ღარიბი დეკორაციაა,
ის არარსებობის კრიალა კანია.

ავახევ და არსებობაში შევალ,
იქ, სადაც ყვავილია, ხეა, ცაა,
‘ჯოკონდაა’.

შევალ.

შევალ.

ერთი ბილეთი ჩემთვის,
ერთიც თქვენთვის - გპატიჟებთ.

იცით, ცხოვრება ლამაზია,
თუ მასში ლამაზი ფულით აღწევ.

როცა მოვხუცდები,
ვფიქრობ, ჩემი ლამაზი ფული
ცხოვრების მუზეუმს გადავცე
მუდმივ ექსპოზიციაში.

ადამიანები მოვლენ და დატკბებიან
ჩემი ლამაზი ფულის ცქერით.

ისინი იდგებიან დიდხანს, აღელვებულები,
მერე წავლენ სახლებში და იფიქრებენ იმაზე,
თუ რა კარგია,
როცა გაქვს ლამაზი ცხოვრება,
ლამაზი სახლი,
ლამაზი ლექსი.

ისინი იფიქრებენ იმაზე,
თუ რა კარგია,
როცა შენი ფული ლამაზია,
ისე, როგორც შენი ფეხმძიმე ცოლი.
Close

MONEY

My money is beautiful.
Like having a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’,
These are beautiful things,
But my money is beautiful, too.
It lies in my pocket and I can touch it –
It’s little and much loved.
It’s so enchanting without being coy,
I can show it to you again and again,
And I can fix it to my buttonhole like a tulip.

My money,
My money . . .

This is a colourful performance,
This is a poor decoration,
This the shiny skin of non-existence.

I will wave it and enter into existence,
where there is a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’.

I shall enter.
I shall enter.

A ticket for me,
And a ticket for you – be my guest.

You know, life is beautiful,
If you attain it with beautiful money.

When I become an old man,
I think I shall give my beautiful money
To the museum of life
As a permanent exhibit.

People will come and enjoy
Looking at my beautiful money.

They will stand there for a long time, excited,
Then they will go home and think about it,
What’s good about it,
When you have a beautiful life,
A beautiful house,
A beautiful poem.

They will think about it,
What’s good about it,
When your money is as beautiful
As your pregnant wife.

MONEY

My money is beautiful.
Like having a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’,
These are beautiful things,
But my money is beautiful, too.
It lies in my pocket and I can touch it –
It’s little and much loved.
It’s so enchanting without being coy,
I can show it to you again and again,
And I can fix it to my buttonhole like a tulip.

My money,
My money . . .

This is a colourful performance,
This is a poor decoration,
This the shiny skin of non-existence.

I will wave it and enter into existence,
where there is a flower, a tree, the sky,
‘Gioconda’.

I shall enter.
I shall enter.

A ticket for me,
And a ticket for you – be my guest.

You know, life is beautiful,
If you attain it with beautiful money.

When I become an old man,
I think I shall give my beautiful money
To the museum of life
As a permanent exhibit.

People will come and enjoy
Looking at my beautiful money.

They will stand there for a long time, excited,
Then they will go home and think about it,
What’s good about it,
When you have a beautiful life,
A beautiful house,
A beautiful poem.

They will think about it,
What’s good about it,
When your money is as beautiful
As your pregnant wife.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Prins Bernhard cultuurfonds
Lira fonds
Versopolis
J.E. Jurriaanse
Gefinancierd door de Europese Unie
Elise Mathilde Fonds
Stichting Verzameling van Wijngaarden-Boot
Veerhuis
VDM
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère