Ilia Chavchavadze

Lambent light of the moon at its fullest
Was shining across my motherland,
And the distant mountains’ white contour
Was receding into blue expanse.

Deep stillness: neither sounds nor cries—
Like parent to child, my Country told me little.
From time to time I heard an anguished sigh,
Sobs while a Georgian man slept and dreamt.

I stood alone and the mountains’ shadow
Again embraced the slumber of my native land.
Oh my God!  Sleeping, sleeping all the time!
When will we be worthy to awaken?

– Ilia Chavchavadze

Images: უშბა (ush-ba), the most dangerous mountain in the Caucus.