That city,

that dreamland of magic

endures legends.

There,

the desperate souls used to open windows.

The city suffered of suicides.

And at each beating of pigeons' wings

I said to myself:

Window. Falling.

They

had illusions

that they could settle the bills to death

that they could excel themselves by jumping from height

by tasting the passion for suicide.

Once, in that city

my heart ceased beating.

In this city, that I live in

no one opens window to fall out from it.

Here what makes me smile

is the smiling face of obedience.

Here we sacrifice:

one by one;

day by day;

drop by drop.

And here I'm - with my broken-wings -

sacrificed to fly

only downwards.

They say: Dripping Water hollows out the stone,

and I say:

Prague, the time past

Tbilisi _ the present time.

მთარგმნელი:Ani Kopaliani