My beauty, do not sing for me
The songs of Georgia, of grievance:
My thoughts immediately flee
To another life and shores in distance.

They bring to me — your cruel tunes —
Alas, the sad and clear vision:
The steppe, the night — under the moon,
The poor and very distant virgin.

While seeing you, I could forget
The image so sad and fair,
But, look, you sing — and it is set
Again before my eyes in air.

My beauty, do not sing for me
The songs of Georgia, of grievance:
My thoughts immediately flee
To another life and shores in distance.

Translated by Yevgeny Bonver, November, 2000

Edited by Dmitry Karshtedt, August, 2000