Responsibilities
compulsive us to stop
taking delight in calmness,
fear of being late to attain,
makes death move
to another shore.

That pink flow,
that water, which was once
dried out from the sea
was waiting for years
or maybe only for one night,
for that moment,
when I could worship
with a form of every religion,
with body that
resigns.

The water is boring
as peace,
as deer coming to you in the desert
to let you drink its milk.

//// (translated from Georgian)