The sacred fruit of the fancy
Flowed down,
Temped the heart,
Made it rebel…
He abandoned all and everything,
He was lost, he disappeared, he left.
But in his bosom he kept
Just his country, his native land…
He located it where he settled –
There, in that very place.
And, at last, he slaked his thirst:
He fondled his country and praised…
4.04.1976
Translated from Georgian
Janri Gogeshvili
http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/he-kept-just-his-homeland-in-his-bosom/
