Misty-Coloured Pearl

By Mzia Kvirikashvili Lawrence

In an anthology of diverse poems, Mzia Kvirikashvili Lawrence highlights the work of Georgian poets on their experiences, nature, and the people who surround their lives.

The shared poems explore the cry of a thirsty woman from the desert as she longs for the arrival of spring, the joy of the purest of friendships as others count our blessings, the breaking of invisible beliefs in dreams that remind of a flow of multi-coloured tunes and rhythms, the rain that accompanies three-day-old butterflies as the fog reaches the depth of the abyss, the life lessons that come with the high price of tears and games without rules that either make us stronger or weaker, and a British cellist who fights with fire in her soul while touching the strong strings of her instrument with her bow and destroys the frame of the transient world.

Misty-Coloured Pearl is an anthology of verse that shares the reflections of Georgian poets as they offer unique lyrical perspectives on life, love, and everything in between.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse UK
• Release date: Jun 15, 2021
• ISBN: 9781665590167

Mzia Kvirikashvili Lawrence

I was born and raised in a part of Georgia called Abkhazia. The collapse of the Soviet Union followed by a series of wars, after which Georgians expelled from their native lands, including Abkhazia. We have not been able to enter or even visit graves there for about three decades. The country’s destruction followed by the massive migration of people to save themselves and their families. The poems I have translated from Georgian into English include interesting material written on by poets of different ages and represent our feelings, emotional experiences, and joint pain. The connection between heaven and earth, morality, and love are also topics covered in the poems. It is not easy to translate the lyrics from Georgian into English because of its peculiar characteristic grammar structure. We tried to include the rhythm and harmony in the translation as much as possible. I graduated from Tbilisi State University with a Diploma of Honour. For many years, I worked at Iliauni university as an editor and then as a Lecturer. I arrived in the UK in 2001, and here I completed study courses with Cambridge University. I am married to Mr. Ronald Lawrence, the first proof-reader and supporter of my translations in this great work.

Book preview

© 2021 Mzia Kvirikashvili Lawrence. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 06/15/2021

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9017-4 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-6655-9016-7 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models,

and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.

Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

CONTENTS

From Translator

Nana Abesadze

Giorgi Archemashvili

Zurab Archvadze

Lali Asabishvili

Mzia Barabadze

Tsira Barbakadze

Jumber Bechvaia

Ani Beinashvili

Tengiz Bejashvili

Otar Beridze

Nana Bibilashvili

Mari Mzevinari Bibiluri

Tsitsino Bochorishvili

Nana Charkviani

Jenny Chkheidze

Koba Chumburidze

Pharna Corrin

Dali Dadiani

Dali Dadunashvili

Dodo Danelia

Vaja Danelia

Manana Dangadze

Alexandra (Shura) Didebeli

Kakha Dolidze

Manana Dundua

Ilia Erqvania

Shorena Gabelashvili

Aleko Gadelia

Tinatin Ghanishashvili

Mikhail Ghanishashvili

Tina Gelashvili

David Gegelashvili

Juba Ghebeli (Jumber Gogrichiani)

Merab Giorgadze

Tsiala Giorgadze

Tsiala Gordeziani

Lia Guruli (Garakhanidze)

David Iosebashvili

Mea Ivaniseli

Irma Jananashvili

Sergo Janashia

Nani Javakhishvili-Gigashvili

Temuri Jghenti

Qeto Jomidava

Daredjan Kapanadze

Irina Kapanadze

Lika Katamadze

Shalva Katcharava

Dali Katsiashvili-Tvaladeli

Simon Khalkhosani (Balakhadze)

Soso Kazarashvili

Tea Khasaia

Ia Khasaia

Amiran Khetsadze

Giorgi Khetsadze

Maia Khoperia

Tamar Khotcholava

Tsisana Khutsishvili

Marina Khutchua

Zurab Kobalia

Ianel Kochlamazashvili

Tariel Kopaliani

Medea Kukhaleishvili

Sharlota Kvantaliani

Khatuna Kveselava

Aleko Kvirikashvili

Khvicha Kvirikashvili

Mzia Kvirikashvili Lawrence

Lali Elene Lazashvili

Merab Lataria

Inga Londaridze

Aleksandre Loria

Maia Makharadze

Lika Masurashvili

Makhvala Macharashvili

Paata Mukha Mdzinarashvili

Zviad Mepare (Neparidze)

Nana Mikautidze

Ana Mikadze

Manana Mikadze

Niko Mikaia

Murad Mtvarelidze

Zaur Nachkebia

Tsira Okropiridze

Zurab Papiashvili

Khatuna Peradze

Nona Pipia

Jonny Qartveli

Sofi Qartveli

Shota Qistauri

Malkhaz Sajaia

Elza Samniashvili

Germane Sazanoeli

Matela Shainidze

John Shamani (Shamanadze)

Leila Sichinava

Nino Sivsivadze

Ioseb Solomnishvili (Eniseli)

Nugzar Sula Sulashvili

Marina Tektumanidze

Natela Tinikashvili

Amiran Todua

Manana Tonia

Marina Topuria

Mimoza Tsanava

Manana Tsereteli

Nino Tsiklauri (Melano Melano)

Giorgi Tskhvedadze

Tamar Turmanidze

Eduard Ugulava

Zaza Ujmajuridze

Nargiza Urtkmelidze

Salome Vashakidze

Iza Vepkhvadze

Natalia Zaqareishvili

Eteri Zaridze

Giorgi Zubitashvili

I dedicate this book to the memory of

my mother Tatiana Bojgua, who went

through WW2 and returned home

safely but she was brutally tortured at

the time of the Georgian Abkhazian

war and became its victim.

FROM TRANSLATOR

All these verses I find quite charming that walk in the depths of the soul and the supreme truth that governs the existence of life and divine will. Observe the highly artistic, aesthetic, and melodic sound of the verses, the flexible dynamism of the metaphors, the mysterious symbolism of the semantics, and instantly open all five senses. - I think you will master the balance of spirituality and the most beautiful feeling mood! It depends on common sense how much you will penetrate to the elevated soul where each word is distinguished not only by meaning, but also by its content and hidden intuitions. And these seconds share in the perpetuation of boundless passions of eternal longing.

The poems are translated from the Georgian language to English. It gives my fellow Georgians and me great happiness and pride to reach the hearts of English-speaking audience.

Evaluation and judgment are for you, my reader.

I wish to thank for their help and moral support in issuing this Book:

My husband, Ronald Lawrence.

The members of the creative union of Georgian Writers —

the Founder and head of the publishing house Rubicon,

a poet academician Mr Iosef Macharashvili;

A Doctor of Law, a poem writer Nana Revazishvili;

The cover designers – Nino Aptsiauri and Kakha Samushia.

To our best friend, a poem writer __Merab Giorgadze.

Thanks to all the poem writers for their excellent work.

And thanks to the team of publishers – Author House – for their outstanding support and tolerance.

Nana%20Abesadze.png

NANA ABESADZE

37606.png

I am a cry of a thirsty woman from a wild desert.

I am pain of an exhausted spirit feeling suffocated.

I am silent melancholy of bare, snow-covered trees,

Unrealizable longing and desire for the arrival of spring.

I am a burden of the twilight on a moonless night,

And at dawn I am the sorrow of a pallid sunray.

I am a prayer of the torn out, extirpated grass

When its place is being cleared for the rose of May.

I am life, continually needing to save, to look after,

Having never been noticed where or when I appeared.

I am the melancholy of the child arriving from her past,

Following a little confused girl, feeble and hunched.

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It has faded the clothes of sleepy morning colour,

And it covered my shimmering night with silver-white.

I felt the power of emptiness, and I don’t understand

What insistence brought me here, what perseverance.

It’s a long time since my body lost its usual fullness!

I’ve missed walking in my multicolour and radiant dress.

I guessed too late, with my fate destined only by chosen people,

The selected inhabitants of the reflection of the sunrays.

I was the shadow of the moonlight, the darkness of the night,

And I was waiting for the angel’s Mecca, for a heavenly hymn.

I could not even feel how much time had passed in this waiting,

How I was exhausting behind times wearing out like silk.

I am now between the heavens, the sun, and the moon.

I am a remnant of the lost expectations of my soul.

Now I have only hope for pregnant heaven,

Peacefully and beautifully due to having me again.

16 September 2020

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Open the windows; take them off.

Break and destroy all the protected doors.

I can no longer restrict my freedom.

And what is the point of trying it at all?

I passed your world; it has been quite long.

You think you are stopping me; you are so wrong!

Look at the stars in inaccessible heaven:

For sunless white clouds, they kill themselves.

You can’t catch the soul if it is thirsty.

Let it break the frame; let it be free.

With your senseless power and glittering items,

You can’t buy my stubbornness and will.

Call me crazy, or whatever you want.

You can’t touch my heart; its patience is stilled.

Every time you shut it in a dungeon

Because of its wilfulness, it broke free.

Open the windows; why do you wait?

Break down all the protected gates.

I free now! Remember! Did I promise?

But you sniggered when I said it.

23 November 2020

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GIORGI ARCHEMASHVILI

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I did not let my imagination

Get used to the usual, ordinary being,

And increased the frequency of breath

As was not enough the eternity for me.

When I startle with my soul rising,

I feel I carry it as if it were a heavy cross.

The dead are calling living desires

From the tombs of tears and despair.

I am no longer a recoveree of hearts,

And I acknowledged it quite late.

And colour-pallid dawns as well,

Granting me the monotony of peace.

37612.png

My soul still denies inhabitants of chaos,

And the foundation of evil begins to rock.

I know the world has no boundary.

No one will follow me, and I regret it.

Time is exhausted by space interfering

For existence approving bitter waiting.

I, too, walk without a hurry, following the time,

The period of helplessness, the path of desires.

Where dreams were overshadowed by the arch,

Evils could not establish my original tribe.

Time passing through me passed its willpower.

Instead of me, uncertain destiny, man chose others.

A sharp, biting mixture of space and timelessness,

The aimless to defend, it is born as a shield.

And if you cannot reconcile your peace with the universe,

You, too, will be involuntary with eternity punished.

7 March 2019

37614.png

The vulturous sorrows of the silent soul

Reflect and excite the mirror of mood.

It was as I gave a promise of a torture,

And now I only sort out the details.

It was better to start earlier, I think,

Before the whim of self-sacrifice.

If it outweighs the value of a person,

Already has left there a part of God.

If love arrives its usual way,

I will give it out with a selfless thought.

I reject that surrounding me, space,

And the seeds of virtue I will sow.

I wonder what happens after all,

When my pains get more and more.

Probably the same, what already was.

What I have written has already gone.

17 April 2019

37616.png

I could not prevent my precious years.

I even looked like a ruthless follower.

I am burning with eternal fire,

With the being that I am, myself.

I made troubled, unmoving lakes

Because there is no power for you.

I rejoice in your visions and gaze,

The dividing boundary to erase.

I mixed my roads so brutally

Even my destiny loses its way.

I rush to you with ardent passion

To bring back my long-lost happiness!

I look everywhere, whether I expect you or not.

Regret now does not make any sense.

I do not talk about the fate of a poet.

A market merchant can sell one nine times.

But hopes that aim to you my way

I breathe my soul and warm it secretly.

I want to present you the world of poetry

Covered with love and endless desire.

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My heart was brought up with pains;

I cannot ever take my eyes off it.

My soul is ardour, excited by spaces.

Heaven will carry it like an inspiration!

I wonder, who will I be after years?

Fear has maddened my desires.

I so want to walk my life’s paths,

A beast not to surpass a man!

I am sorry that, fallen with confession,

I could not bloom the sun, could not rely on it.

I am overwhelmed by my own dreaming,

The impossible and possible.

Zurab%20Archvadze.png

ZURAB ARCHVADZE

37620.png

My cruel fate puts traps for my life,

But I passed all of them conveniently,

I will arise as the sun in a moonless ravine,

If you could give me a chance, my deity.

A field flower raised on the meadow,

The sweetest breeze plays gently with you.

The delicate nature of the virtuous male

Never sacrifices you to the stormy gale.

I cannot touch you with my magic hands.

Why do I want you instantly to wither?

Should boil this passion for a long time,

To get more robust and to melt in the heart.

KUTAISI

I love your garden, full and alive,

Arrogant Rioni licking white rocks.

In the greatness of the Baghdadi temple,

Spilt as azure mist on beautiful dawns.

Lionhearted knights with open shoulders,

And the burning beauty of Imeri* women,

Adorned with greenery your hills and streets,

Old maintenance and new buildings.

How fantastic is your old breath?

Mesmerizing with millennium weaves?

Do not I know that the Georgians

From your elegance and beauty drink?

I love waiting by the old bridge,

Where magnolia violently spills.

Elsewhere, even in paradise,

I will never change Kutaisi life.

What proud looks they have for you,

Here Gelati and Geguti there?

What mystery heaven covers you?

With unexplained puzzles of stars?

I adore your embroidered garden.

And fulfilled hearts with sincere love,

Blossomed roses in January’s month,

Hopes with limitless inspirations.

18 February 2020

____

*Imeri: Imereti, a district in west Georgia.

PETRA

If you knew this pain of my heart,

How it is pouring as the moistening dew,

How turned me my mindless passion

Into single-celled crippled bacillus,

You would come to me, hold my hands.

You would say to me comfortable words.

But now the sorrow, with its vast belt,

Has surrounded my inner world

To tie my soul, its encouragement,

With intense pain, with all its power,

To be destroyed the woman in me,

All my wishes to make disappear.

If you knew it, my Hippolyte,

How suffer my thoughts about you,

You would become my only defender;

You would yourself have mercy on me.

If you understand my bitter pains,

The unlimited blasting of my passions,

You will not wish to pass judgement on me,

To taunt me or stone me with words.

PETRA TALKS TO HIPPOLYTE

The taste of ripening, red-coloured cherry

I poured on my lips as sweetest honey.

Is it essential the door of your heart

To lock up today for me finally?

It is hard to believe you detest women;

That your pure soul you shut for real love.

Why does Artemis rule your emotions,

Not honestly use your divine heart?

I feel dizzy; you are my balm.

Without your help, I cannot be calm.

Do not utterly trust Goddess Artemis.

Do not obey her; avoid her tricks.

What can gods know about passions?

Their aspirations are thirsty for victory.

What can we do if Goddess Artemis

Is harmed and envied by evil Aphrodite?

The cherry aroma as the sweetest honey

Poured and remained in red on my lips.

It is better than nothing if you accept me,

like a deer or poppy, fish, or a beech tree.

A MONOLOGUE FROM THE TRAGEDY OF PHEDRA

One day my heart will find its peace.

The fire of passion will extinguish.

The sun will become peaceful, as in the old days,

Will return its joy to the sunrays.

Won’t say anything, just in my thoughts;

I will cling to you, will hold your breast,

Won’t disturb you with my usual madness.

I’ll be silent as a thrush in its nest.

I won’t bother you; I need, though,

The great consolation led from you.

Somehow I will be able to move on,

To restrain strings of my trembling soul.

What if I forever will be destroyed,

If into my soul will pour endless rain?

TO MY DREAM LADY

If I felt the shining of your eyes just only once,

It would cure and warm my wounded heart.

In your photo you look like my dreamed one;

The sparkle I noticed there could unite us.

If this became true, I would fly to you.

I would be delighted with feeling of truth.

My yellowish gaze would caress your black.

But if never happens it, I will make myself calm.

Do you think I cannot guess what happens to me?

I miss that dearest minute when we meet,

When we get the joy of the purest friendship,

Then we let the others count our blessings.

I am ready, my flower, if fate ever wishes it.

Do not be afraid; let be spread evil-hearted gossips!

I would like to have you with joys and delights.

My heart cannot rest; my blood-veins bubbling still again.

In the bed of blue clouds, the moon is lying every night.

I wait for the first date; I am restless, the grace of mine.

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My restless night followed by unendurable morning,

I realized the cause of my anxiety is a woman, pretty and charming.

Seeing her beauty and sparkling eyes, what kind of rest could I have?

I don’t believe it; if my fate delights me and acts so surprisingly,

I have felt some unknown mercy fills my heart from a fairy tale.

Something fabulous is on its way and approaches me step by step.

Every night is hosting my dreams as if she’s arranging our first date;

Every night her magic voice is more than a chant in my dreams.

My doubt dares to ask me the question: Is it not too late in my silver age?

What can I answer? It is complicated; it is so hard to be a human being.

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I wait with respect; I have no patience.

How will you enter my world, stranger?

And what if you appear and you are different?

I am in fear… Just no disappointment.

If our acquaintance betrays us,

And the reality will fold its wings,

The grief will eat me, and from the pink dreams,

I will disappear from the beginning.

I will disappear silently, without notice,

How melted all the hope in my heart.

Before we meet, I wish you to know it;

I grant you all my feelings, my great love.

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LALI ASABISHVILI

WAIT FOR AUTUMN.

I am escorting the last summer days.

There is only a little time left for me.

All my dreams and unfulfilled aims

remained in buds of chamomiles.

Awe azalea was blooming in the hills,

And its fragrance was reaching the valleys.

A colourful rainbow covered the sky,

And in your search, I caught twilight.

This burning summer—it will end soon—

No longer suits me a chamomile dress.

Now I look forward to real autumn,

Waiting for whirlwind to take me away!

EDELWEISS

I am waiting still. I hope my May will come!

Will bloom for me edelweiss in the high Alps.

This autumn will sow for me a warm winter blanket!

And snowflakes will find shelter over my head.

Cyclamen will cover bottoms of the fence;

Snowdrops and violets will bead my neck.

If I won’t stand the changing of March,

I won’t obey its caprices; all gates I’ll shut.

Then with blue colours April will wake up.

I’ll walk through the garden to caress lilacs.

My May will spread the rose petals as a rug.

Nobody can break my loneliness in the Alps.

Then I will pass the streams of summer by.

Won’t let anyone count my flowers.

The summer heat will make a dress for me.

I’ll go to the Alps for edelweiss’s love.

I will follow the paths to the waterfall

Before winter covers mountains with snow.

I WILL BE LATE

It will be sunshine; the nature will wake up.

I will see my mountains and fields again.

O, how I wish to return to my homeland!

I will go back, but it will be too late.

I’ll come exhausted and embrace your heart,

And my bitter words, too, won’t be a balm.

Where I went followed my memories,

My life that my home city presented me.

I’ll come back, never will leave you!

The missing you tautened my tendons.

This spring is different, doesn’t resemble the others.

I don’t want a foreign land’s customs anymore.

It will be sunshine, will wake up nature.

I will see mountains and greenery again.

O, how I wish to return to homeland!

I will, but I know it will be too late.

DISTANT MEMORIES

I am caressing my distant memories.

I am swaying and rocking in my yard.

I am heading down towards a ravine,

And with my verses I swim in the river.

I am reliving my distant memories.

Birds chirping on a mulberry brunch;

I miss that colourful, fluttering dress,

Sewn and embroidered by my aunt.

I can’t give up my sweetest memories:

Branches of peach trees that were bursting;

I miss cherries after the raining,

And in the rain, wellingtons splashing.

Never leave me, my distant, far memories.

We have to share one source and trail,

Where I’ve not been, what I’ve not seen.

And anyway, the world seems empty to me.

COLOURFUL BUTTERFLY

Violet drugged me the same way,

Like its colourful butterfly drugged.

I touched a poppy, and I became calm

And made me soft violet fragrance.

I fly with the wings of a butterfly.

I count the chamomiles in the fields.

It is how this transient world works;

It is mixed suffering and joy.

I keep the rays of the sun in my heart.

I am enjoying playing with beams.

Smiles in the fields I will plant.

Every spring in this way I celebrate.

My heart stayed forever young.

I am walking through gardens, and

I know life, today or tomorrow,

It will destroy me with my heart.

Yesterday, as if I still was a child,

I chased the butterfly in the field.

O, my Lord, if you cannot give me joy,

Please avoid me any heart pain.

I embroider hopes again.

I try to fulfil my soul source.

And like a colourful butterfly,

I become drunk with fragrance.

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MZIA BARABADZE

SELFISH APRIL

April is mine; leave it in peace please.

The Lord blessed me with it from my birth!

They all wish April just for them to celebrate.

Everyone waits for crowns from chamomiles.

I am painting the treasure of nature.

Then they are waiting with greed and caution.

Do not disturb April; leave her in peace.

Here is harmony, and it is just for me!

In April I wake up love for everyone!

Colour your soul with tunes of paradise.

I want to bloom the spring in your heart.

Leave me in peace, and do not upset, please!

Leave April in peace; April is mine.

God granted it to me from my birth.

I AM SORRY

I am sorry; it is hard to say that I am in love.

I feel without words the screaming of the heart,

As shines in you a belief granted by heaven.

I rely just on God to recognize the sincere love.

I am sorry; it is hard to say that I am in love.

I feel the screaming of your soul without words.

Shines in you the sincerity coming from your heart.

For that I can recognize love as I rely on the Lord.

Forgive me, please; it is too hard to say, I love you!

Behind these words could be a thousand doubts.

When deaf and dumb understand each other without words,

These are excessive instincts given as gifts by the Lord.

Forgive me that I cannot explain to you about my love

For this are created warm feelings and charms.

Express with care all your desires, then I will guess it.

I warm you with my passions if you stay with me.

I am sorry; it is so hard to tell you about my feelings.

THE MUSIC TUNES

Frolic playing fingers on a grand piano.

Can hear classic sounds in the atmosphere.

Tunes of music make mad the universe,

Then spreads, penetrates the depths.

Composers create fantasies of the soul.

The poets decorate it as artists do,

Inspired wishes present on the canvas,

Fly delightful with their creation.

An artist will display the wishes of the heart.

With heavenly painting wakes it with a tremble.

By the blessed nature, the waltz is created.

Love to our hearts could be dedicated.

The fingers tenderly follow keyboards.

Chopin amazes backgrounds with music,

When a painter blows his soul a masterpiece,

The curtain will open! Waltz will start.

I WENT

I went and did not even say goodbye!

I went and took with me my dignity.

I went, and with my unfeasible dream,

Rehabilitated my feature of pride.

Your ignorance left me with a good sign.

I felt mature, comprehend my temptation.

Divine love will be granted only from heaven.

I will convince, and it will come back again.

What is my fault if I loved you so sincerely?

Your women did not give me any peace.

I was rushing to meet you with full of love,

But you were disturbed by mistrust very much.

I left and did not even say goodbye!

I went and took with me my dignity.

I went with my unreliable dream,

But I restored my fallen pride.

AUTUMN IN MY SPRING

Autumn in my spring, it has sneaked in,

And the vengeance sacrificed it.

I am no longer enjoying April;

Your mysteries restrained me.

Leave me on time; give me my peace.

I cannot bear anyone anymore.

Please let me be now with my loneliness.

I want to stay with my sad thoughts.

Who asked you to invade my inner world?

Why do you turn me to the size of a boulder?

I loved spring inside me, I adored.

But you dress