სიყვარული
ამ ღამით მე შენთან ვიყავი,
მაგრამ შენ არ დამიხვდი სახლში...
და არც შენი სახლი იყო სადმე ქალაქში...
და ის ქალაქიც
არსად იყო დედამიწაზე.
ბესიკ ხარანაული
“Last night I came over
But you weren’t home,
And your house wasn’t in the city,
And there was no such city on Earth.”
— Besik Kharanauli, “Love”
“Believe me, what you want is someone to have dinner with. Sleep with from time to time, telephone every day or write. It’s what you set up that is defeating. Make it very modest. And give yourself permission to make a few mistakes. You know, blow it a bit. Have a few drinks and fall into bed with somebody. It doesn’t have to be the final thing.”
მიყვარხარ, – ვამბობ და ჩემს თავზე ვბრაზობ,
პოეტმა ისიც ვერ ვისწავლე,
რომ განშორების სიტყვები განსხვავებულია.
იაკი კაბე
“𝑇𝑖𝑚𝑒 𝑤𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑒 𝑎 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑎𝑣𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑓𝑟𝑜𝑚 𝑎 𝑡𝑟𝑎𝑖𝑛 𝐼 𝑤𝑎𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 𝑏𝑒 𝑜𝑛. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 𝑡𝑜 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑠 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑠 𝐼 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑏𝑜𝑢𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢.”
—Jonathan Safran Fork, Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close
I just want to smoke my cigarettes and drink my whiskey and for you to love me for the monster I am.
To the man who once asked, how are you, I now answer, I miss hiding at your chest. A wild invocation directed at the forces of absence and separation, with the transience of the patient’s voice: I miss hiding at your chest.
Christina Tudor-Sideri
I know someone who kisses the way
a flower opens, but more rapidly.
Flowers are sweet. They have
short, beatific lives. They offer
much pleasure. There is
nothing in the world that can be said
against them.
Sad, isn’t it, that all they can kiss
is the air.
Yes, yes! We are the lucky ones.
Mary Oliver
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