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Best Poems Written by Mariam Tsiklauri

Below are the all-time best Mariam Tsiklauri poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Solely Love

We live the way each trice gets less
From Azure’s hue and from its ray,
And my life’s rye-coloured shirt’s
Broider becomes a tow grey.
There pale the petals of the hour  
Of lilies of the light and hope,
Still, stubbornly, I’m looking for 
Some thing whose breath does never stop.
And, to all World, I tell the tales, 
The tales I’ve never heard before,
To convince it that Aeon still 
Does stay awake in our nights’ core!
That the death’s time was never born!
That Life is only truth, at length!
That either of them has a verge, 
And solely Love is with no end…

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What To Tell Our Children

What to tell our children,
when we’re back from War,
back from Peace too,
from Death itself, -
what shall we tell them:
We looked for Love
but found it nowhere?
Looked for Freedom
but found it in slavery?
Longed for Happiness
but wedded Misfortune?
What shall we tell our children:
That we did not find a God in skies,
Home on the earth;
That our horizons were unwoven,
and we could not save the quiet
of our temples?
What shall we tell our children:
Why we begot you? 
To stand upon your infant souls,
like on some stairs,
for crawling up to Heaven,
but still staying covered with Earth,
we the wretched.

Here’s the suffering – your Bethlehem:
Give birth, by yourselves, to a God
that’ll be your peer,
that’ll support more 
you the toilers.

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River

River

I was born as a river,
A mountain one.
I am so swift,
So tumultuous,
Have even no time to exist in myself.

Who would narrate me?
No one can tell me,
None can express me.

They drink me, and think I am water.
They put their feet in me,
And when staring in my eyes
Trout fall in their nets.
But I do run,
Having no time even for fry
Clinging to my waves.  

Swallows too fly over my lap,
My drops do bloom upon their white breasts
Raising to the sky
The taste of boulders.

How cold I am:
They gasp –
Heat and Sun’s angels –
Rocking in my arms.

I flow towards where I won’t return from,
But this road from the source to the mouth
Is just the proof and the majesty of the Ceaselessness.

Who’s able to be,
Except a river,
So whole and ageless from birth to death?..

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Everywhere You Are

God, all the time You are,
everywhere You,
You suffice all…
But I, with my wild stubbornness,
with hunter’s old scent,
look, in myself, for the lack-of-You:
I’d like to see –
in this body, this soul – 
where You are not and what just does lack You,
as I am so sad 
that, like a path of a cloudy pass,
am untrustworthy for my own folks…
I feel how,
from the moss-grown nothingness of the lack-of-You,
there radiates 
the dead insect of my daydream
with its dusty wings…
From the threshold of the nonexistence 
there glitter my great lacks-of-You…
Again, again, from thawed-out snow,
fresh grass covers greenly fields and mountains;
Again, again, from summertime,
white winter dwellings 
are filled with yellow-breasted chicken…
O God, in vain You’re searched in skies –
You are my Earth,
my old Country Seat…
Countless times I have stepped on You 
to cleanse myself…

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I Have Seen Nothing

I do enjoy butterflies, forests, flowers,
brooks – flying in the sky like white mists,
I do enjoy grass – an endless miracle:
all are so wondrous even because they’re visible!
But is not there also
the invisible kingdom? –
The roots of  a brook entrusted to the earth’s dampness,
seeds of flowers,
the converse side of grass and forest hidden in soil: 
All which are left facing graves only,
What do they look at, what do they enjoy,
what, after all, there happens beyond this earth
as they, all these blessed ones,
do emerge, so beautiful and motley, out from it? 
Would you consider that their beauty
shines out with no bliss?
Is not a man this way, too,
radiating what his soul contains?
I have slid apart, so many a time, that black soil, 
and looked inside…
Alas, the wretched, I have seen nothing.

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A Dandelion

Love, 
if you’re a god indeed, 
why are you like, then, 
some dandelion?
Tell me what can I do
to keep you safe?
If a single blow of breeze
scythes you down,
how can you stand against
the heart’s hurricane?

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From the Cycle Once

Firefly,
if I believe once
that all your beauty
is a charm of the gloom
reigning around you,
what would I do, then?

*
The house that I had once
under a table, was larger,
and warmer, and cosier;
And I could travel,
with that wooden horse,
much faster,
much safer.

*
The brilliance of a big light
is often not so dazzling
as then, in the pitch darkness,
when one’s eyes open.

*
Among all bad times
the worst is mine.
But I do love it
because I know:
We met this single time.
And also I know 
that once I’ll miss it, oh, so dearly!

*
It was as easy, for my granny,
to pick wild white roses
as stars among the thorns of night.
However, once
she scratched her hand on Death and, after that,
she left her old bijouterie to me:
A dry bunch of violets put in a book,
and a white collar
knitted by herself.

* 
Once I beseeched one saint
to help me in the trouble,
and he did.
I thought: O Lord,
how pitiful I am
if he himself had already 
perceived all.