THE MAN IN THE PANTHER SKIN

Prologue

1. რომელმან შექმნა სამყარო ძალითა მით ძლიერითა,
ზეგარდმო არსნი სულითა ყვნა ზეცით მონაბერითა,
ჩვენ, კაცთა, მოგვცა ქვეყანა, გვაქვს უთვალავი ფერითა,
და მისგან არს ყოვლი ხელმწიფე სახითა მისმიერითა.

Wardrop 1. He who created the firmament, by that mighty power made beings inspired from on high with souls celestial; to us men He has given the world, infinite in variety we possess it; from Him is every monarch in His likeness.

Urushadze 1. He who created the firmament by the omnipotent might of his power,
Gave breath to all living creatures and to man spirits celestial,
Gave us the world to possess with all its unlimited varieties,
And Kings ordained by Him, each in His own image.

Vivian 1. He who the firmament by His power and might created
Caused His creatures to breathe with a spirit from on high,
Earth with its myriad forms assigned to us men for our dwelling,
Kings in His likeness made: from Him is sovereignty.

Stevenson 1. The power that gave the earth and the skies their creation, whose breath, wafted from heaven, endued all creatures with life, has granted us mortals this world, with its endless diversity: its likeness is imprinted upon all who hold sway as monarchs.

2. ჰე, ღმერთო ერთო, შენ შეჰქმენ სახე ყოვლისა ტანისა,
შენ დამიფარე, ძლევა მეც დათრგუნვად მე სატანისა,
მომეც მიჯნურთა სურვილი, სიკვდიდმდე გასატანისა,
და ცოდვათა შესუბუქება, მუნ თანაწასატანისა.

Wardrop 2. O one God! Thou didst create the face of every form! Shield me, give me mastery to trample on Satan, give me the longing of lovers lasting even unto death, lightening (of the burden) of sins I must bear thither with me.

Urushadze 2. O One God, who has created the form of every man's body,
Assist us, give us strength, to conquer the wiles of Satan;
Fill us with longing for love, endless, enduring to death!
Lighten the load of sins we must bear to the world to come!

Vivian 2. God who art One, who giv’st to each shape its showing,
Be Thou my defender: shield me, grant me the power
Satan to vanquish, love’s desire until death to cherish;
Lighten for me my load of sin in the final hour.

Stevenson 2. O One, O God, thou hast conferred their form on all creatures! Defend me, give me strength to trample upon Satan, give me the love of a lover longing unto death, lighten the burden of sin I must bear with me beyond the grave!

3. ვის შვენის, - ლომსა, - ხმარება შუბისა, ფარ-შიმშერისა,
- მეფისა მზის თამარისა, ღაწვბალახშ - თმაგიშერისა, -
მას, არა ვიცი, შევმართო შესხმა ხოტბისა შერისა?!
და მისთა მჭვრეტელთა ყანდისა მირთმა ხამს, მართ მიშერისა.

Wardrop 3. Of that lion whom the use of lance, shield and sword adorns, of the king, the sun T’hamara, the ruby-cheeked, the jet-haired, of her I know not how I shall dare to sing the manifold praise; they who look upon her must offer her the sweets for which she hungers.

Urushadze 3. I sing of the lion whom the use of lance, shield and sword adorns,
Of Tamar, the Queen of Queens, the ruby-cheeked and jet-haired.
How shall I dare pay tribute to her in praiseworthy verses,
Whom to look upon is to feast upon the choicest of honey?

Vivian 3. Unto the Lion who bears with honour arms and shield:
Unto the Sun, the sovereign Thamar – whom to behold,
Jet-haired, ruby-cheeked, is nectar’s sweets to taste –
How to offer this ode of praise shall I be bold?

Stevenson 3. How can I hymn the praises of that hero whose lance, shield, and sword bring him glory, or of Queen Tamar – Tamar, whose radiance is like the sun’s, whose cheek is ruby, whose hair is jet; Tamar, who fills all beholders with rapture unutterable?

4. თამარს ვაქებდეთ მეფესა სისხლისა ცრემლდათხეული,
ვთქვენი ქებანი ვისნი მე არავად გამორჩეული.
მელნად ვიხმარე გიშრის ტბა და კალმად მე ნა რხეული,
და ვინცა ისმინოს, დაესვას ლახვარი გულსა ხეული.

Wardrop 4. By shedding tears of blood we praise King T’hamara, whose praises I, not ill-chosen, have told forth. For ink I have used a lake of jet, and for pen a pliant crystal. Whoever hears, a jagged spear will pierce his heart!

Urushadze 4. Tears of blood flow profusely as I exult our Queen Tamar
Whose praises I have uttered forth in well-chosen words.
For ink I have used a lake of jet and for pen, a pliant reed.
My words, like jagged spears, will pierce the heart of the hearer.

Vivian 4. Bitter tears I shed – I, of all men best
Dowered to proclaim the sovereign’s high renown.
A pliant reed my pen, dipped in a pool of jet,
In heart-piercing words shall make her praises known.

Stevenson. Tears of blood flow from my eyes as I sing of Tamar; I, not unworthy, have composed her eulogy: her eyes’ jet pools have served for ink, my wasted form, reed-thin, for pen: compassion’s lance must pierce my hearers’ hearts.

5. მიბრძანეს მათად საქებრად თქმა ლექსებისა ტკბილისა,
ქება წარბთა და წამწამთა, თმათა და ბაგე-კბილისა,
ბროლ-ბალახშისა თლილისა, მის მიჯრით მიწყობილისა.
და გასტეხს ქვასაცა მაგარსა გვრდემლი ტყვივისა ლბილისა.

Wardrop 5. She bade me indite sweet verses in her praise, laud her eyebrows and lashes, her hair, her lips and teeth, cut crystal and ruby arrayed in ranks. An anvil of soft lead breaks even hard stone.

Urushadze 5. I was told to compose in her honour stately and sweet- sounding verses,
To laud her eyebrows and lashes, her hair, her lips and her teeth-
Badakhshan ruby and cut crystal arrayed in two even ranks.
An anvil of lead can break even the hardest stone.

Vivian 5. It is Rust’veli’s task to tell in verse the glory
Of this fair queen, the beauty hers alone
Of tresses and crystal gaze, of pearls in a setting of ruby;
On the soft lead anvil is broken the hardest stone.

Stevenson. I was commanded to fashion sweet verses in her honor, to tell of her eyebrows, lashes, tresses, lips and teeth – of the crystal and ruby set within her cheek. …An anvil’s soft lead breaks the hardest stone!

6. აწ ენა მინდა გამოთქმად, გული და ხელოვანება, -
ძალი მომეც, და შეწევნა შენგნით მაქვს, მივსცე გონება;
მით შევეწივნეთ ტარიელს, ტურფადცა უნდა ხსენება;
და მათ სამთა გმირთა მნათობთა სჭირს ერთმანერთის მონება.

Wardrop 6. Now want I tongue, heart and skill for utterance! Grant me strength! And if I have aid from thee I shall have understanding, so may we succour Tariel; tenderly indeed should we cherish his memory and that of the three starlike heroes wont to serve one another.

Urushadze 6. Fire my mind and tongue with skill and power for utterance
Which I need, O Lord, for the making of majestic and praiseworthy verses;
Thus will the deeds of Tariel be remembered in eloquent language,
And of the three star-like heroes who faithfully served one another.

Vivian 6. Now do I need an eloquent tongue, good heart, and skill –
Mind is from Thee, who giv’st it wing to its highest reach –
Tariel to serve, and the fair fame to tell
of three heroes vowed in service each to each.

Stevenson. Now have I need of tongue, heart and skill for song: give me strength; with your aid all will be achieved! Thus will the fame of Tariel endure, nobly enshrined in verse – aye, the fame of all the three star-fair heroes wont to bear aid one to another.

7. მო, დავსხდეთ, ტარიელისთვის ცრემლი გვდის შეუშრობილი;
მისებრი მართ დაბადებით ვინმცა ყოფილა შობილი!
დავჯე, რუსთველმან გავლექსე, მისთვის გულლახვარსობილი,
და აქამდის ამბად ნათქვამი, აწ მარგალიტი წყობილი.

Wardrop 7. Come, sit ye down, ye who have been born under the same fate; let us shed a never-drying tear for Tariel’s sake. I sat me down, I, Rust’haveli, indited a poem, my heart pierced with a lance. Hitherto the tale has been told as a tale; now is it a pearl (of) measured (poesy).

Urushadze 7.Come, let us sit together and weep with undrying tears for Tariel.
There never breathed a man born under the same star as his.
I, Rustaveli,whose heart is pierced through by his sorrows have threaded
Like a necklace of pearls a tale told until now as a tale.

Vivian 7. Draw near, and let your tears for Tariel –
All whose fate is like to his by birth –
Quenchless flow, while I recite to you his tale,
Giving to this stray pearl a setting to show its worth.

Stevenson. Come, let us sit and shed unceasing tears for Tariel; never, truly, has another such as he been created! My heart pierced as by a lance, I, Rustaveli, set myself to write a poem: before this there was only a tale passing among the people – behold now a rope of pearls!

8. მე, რუსთველი, ხელობითა ვიქ საქმესა ამა დარი:
ვის მორჩილობს ჯარი სპათა, მისთვის ვხელობ, მისთვის მკვდარი;
დაუძლურდი, მიჯნურთათვის კვლა წამალი არსით არი,
და ანუ მომცეს განკურნება, ანუ მიწა მე სამარი.

Wardrop 15. I, Rust’haveli, have composed this work by my art. For her whom a multitude of hosts obey, I lose my wits, I die! I am sick of love, and for me there is no cure from anywhere, unless she give me healing or the earth a grave.

Urushadze 8. I, who am maddened to frenzy by love, have composed these lines.
She, whom vast armies call mistress has deprived me of life and reason.
Thus sickened am I by love for which there exists no cure.
She alone can cure me, or leave me to death and the grave.

Vivian 8. I, Rustaveli, by calling a maker of verse,
This have wrought for the queen whom hosts of men obey.
Love for her is a madness, a fever that knows no balm:
Let her bestow the cure, or waste my life away.

Stevenson. I, the lord of Rustavi, have composed this work; for the sake of her who has at her command hosts of warriors, I have lost my wits, come near to death. I am wasting away – nowhere is there a cure for lovers! Let her give me healing, or the earth a grave.

9. ესე ამბავი სპარსული, ქართულად ნათარგმანები,
ვით მარგალიტი ობოლი, ხელისხელ საგოგმანები,
ვპოვე და ლექსად გარდავთქვი, საქმე ვქმენ საჭოჭმანები,
და ჩემმან ხელმქმნელმან დამმართოს ლაღმან და ლამაზმა ნები.

Wardrop 16. This Persian tale, now done into Georgian, has hitherto been like a pearl of great price cast in play from hand to hand; now I have found it and mounted it in a setting of verse; I have done a praiseworthy deed. The ravisher of my reason, proud and beautiful, willed me to do it.

Urushadze 9. I have found this Persian tale, and have set it in Georgian verse
Until now like a peerless pearl it was rolled on the palm of the hand.
I have done this praiseworthy and disputable deed for her;
Therefore let her who has robbed me of heart and of reason judge it.

Vivian 9. Like to a loose pearl passed from hand to hand
This Persian tale I found in the Georgian tongue.
Here, at the will of my enchantress haughty and fair,
I have contrived to set it in verse, as a pearl re-strung.

Stevenson. A Persian tale, this, turned into Georgian; a thing like a rare pearl passed from hand to hand I found, and put into verse. A work deserving of praise; may it find favor with the lady proud and beautiful for whose sake I run distraught.’

10. თვალთა, მისგან უნათლოთა, ენატრამცა ახლად ჩენა;
აჰა, გული გამიჯნურდა, მიხვდომია ველთა რბენა!
მიაჯეთ ვინ, ხორცთა დაწვა კმარის, მისცეს სულთა ლხენა.
და სამთა ფერთა საქებელთა ლამის ლექსთა უნდა ლევნა.

Wardrop 17. Eyes that have lost their light through her long to look on her anew; lo! my heart is mad with love, and it is my lot to run about the fields. Who will pray for me? The burning of the body sufficeth, let (her) give soulcomfort! In praise of threefold hue, the verse must needs fall short.

Urushadze 10. Though deprived of their light by gazing upon her yet my eyes long again
To behold her for whom with love-laden heart I roam like a madman.
Let her pray for and soothe my soul; it is enough that my body is burning.
Eloquent must my verses be, majestic, melodious and sweet.

Vivian 10. Dazzled, my eyes but yearn to look on her anew;
Love-madness drives me to roam the fields always.
Torment enough for the flesh! Grant me but ease of spirit
Those natures three in flowing verse to praise.

Stevenson. Her beauty has blinded my eyes; they long once more to behold her: my heart, alas, is mad for love – it must roam, it must wander. Who will pray for me? Enough that the body should burn in love’s fires, let the soul know some comfort! … My verse has to tell of the deeds of three heroes.

11. რაცა ვისცა ბედმან მისცეს, დასჯერდეს და მას უბნობდეს:
მუშა მიწყივ მუშაკობდეს, მეომარი გულოვნობდეს;
კვლა მიჯნურსა მიჯნურობა უყვარდეს და გამოსცნობდეს,
და არცა ვისგან დაეწუნოს, არცა სხვასა უწუნობდეს.

Wardrop 18. With what Fate gives to a man, therewithal should he be content, and so (?contentedly) speak of it. The labourer should ever work, the warrior be brave. So, also, should the lover love Love, and recognize it. Who judges not will not be judged by others.

Urushadze 11. Man, do not complain at fate. Be content and accept it.
Let the warrior always be brave, let the worker enjoy his labour;
So let the love-maddened man learn the meaning of love and know it.
Disdain not the love of another nor let him disdain yours.

Vivian 11. Whatever Fate may send is for man to take and content him:
Let the ploughman labour, the soldier his courage prove,
The lover learn to know what is Love and thereto devote him,
Censuring none, nor allowing censure him to move.

Stevenson. A man should accept without repining the lot that fate sends him; it is for the laborer to toil, the warrior to fight bravely. Even so must the lover surrender himself to love, learn well how to know it. Let him cast no blame upon others, that he himself may escape reproach.

12. შაირობა პირველადვე სიბრძნისაა ერთი დარგი,
საღმრთო, საღმრთოდ გასაგონი, მსმენელთათვის დიდი მარგი,
კვლა აქაცა ეამების, ვინცა ისმენს კაცი ვარგი;
და გრძელი სიტყვა მოკლედ ითქმის, შაირია ამად კარგი.

Wardrop 19. Minstrelsy is, first of all, a branch of wisdom; divinely intelligible to the godlike, very wholesome to them that hearken; it is pleasant, too, if the listener be a worthy man; in few words he utters a long discourse: herein lies the excellence of poetry.

Urushadze 12. Poetry is, first of all, a branch of divine wisdom,
Conceived by and known by the godly edifying to all who hear it.
It pleases the ear of the listener if he be a virtuous man.
A poem uttered with surfeit of words lacks grace and excellence.

Vivian 12. Firstly is poesy a part of wisdom’s self,
Language of the divine intelligence, great in worth
To men prepared to hear: in a brief line it speaks
A lengthy discourse, likewise pleasing those on earth.

Stevenson. Poetry, before all else, is a branch of philosophy: divine, fit for heaven, it delights those who hear it. Even here below it gives pleasure to noble souls: to say much in a few words – therein lies its excellence.

13. ვითა ცხენსა შარა გრძელი და გამოსცდის დიდი რბევა,
მობურთალსა - მოედანი, მართლად ცემა, მარჯვედ ქნევა,
მართ აგრევე მელექსესა - ლექსთა გრძელთა თქმა და ხევა,
და რა მისჭირდეს საუბარი და დაუწყოს ლექსმან ლევა.

Wardrop 20. Like a horse running a great race on a long course, like a ball-player in the lists striking the ball fairly and aiming adroitly at the mark, even so it is with the poet who composes and indites long poems, when utterance is hard for him and verse begins to fail.

Urushadze 13. A race on a course proves a horse's fire and mettle,
A player's skill is seen when he strikes the ball at the goal.
Even so it is with the poet who composes majestic poems:
He must call forth all his skill when utterance is hard and fails him.

Vivian 13. When the course is long the thoroughbred shows its pace;
On the maidan at ball the skilful player is tried;
So the maker of verse throughout a work extended
Proves and displays his power the course’s lengh to ride.

Stevenson. As with the racehorse tried over a distance, as with the player proving his skill in the maidan, so is it with the poet who has put his hand to a long work when utterance grows hard and the lines are slow to form. Behold the man at his craft now!

14. მაშინღა ნახეთ მელექსე და მისი მოშაირობა,
რა ვეღარ მიხვდეს ქართულსა, დაუწყოს ლექსმან ძვირობა,
არ შეამოკლოს ქართული, არა ქმნას სიტყვამცირობა,
და ხელმარჯვედ სცემდეს ჩოგანსა, იხმაროს დიდი გმირობა.

Wardrop 21. Then, indeed, behold the poet, and his poesy will be manifest. When he is at a loss for Georgian (words), and verse begins to fail, he will not weaken Georgian, nor will he let it grow poor in words. Let him strike the ball cunningly; he will show great virtue.

Urushadze 14. Thus indeed, is the poet, and his poem is proof of his prowess.
When at a loss of words and he cannot attain perfection
He must seek for words that will not diminish the poem of its worth,
But strike the ball and score the goal like a dexterous player.

Vivian 14. Although the foot run lame and the fair Georgian phrase
Fail and elude him: then mastery will shine!
Faltering not in pace, nor falling short in endeavour,
Sure of hand, he brings to perfection his design.

Stevenson. When the Georgian flows no more and the verse falters, he will not let his words fall short nor yet suffer cheapening; rather will he take courage and strike again deftly.

15. მოშაირე არა ჰქვიან, თუ სადმე თქვას ერთი, ორი;
თავი ყოლა ნუ ჰგონია მელექსეთა კარგთა სწორი;
განაღა თქვას ერთი, ორი, უმსგავსო და შორი-შორი,
და მაგრა იტყვის: ,,ჩემი სჯობსო", უცილობლობს ვითა ჯორი.

Wardrop 22. He who utters, somewhere, one or two verses cannot be called a poet; let him not think himself equal to great singers. Even if they compose a few discrepant verses from time to time, yet if they say, “Mine are of the best!” they are stiff-necked mules.

Urushadze 15. A verse or two composed by chance do not make a poet;
Let him not think himself a poet on the level of great singers.
Even though, now and then, he may write a few discordant verses;
Yet if he says, "Truly, mine is the better", he is a stubborn mule.

Vivian 15. Those rhymesters who by stanzas one or two
Reckon their work, of poet merit not the name,
Nor to be called the peer of the great bards – although,
Mulish, their own halting lines to excel they claim.

Stevenson. A couple of verses scribbled somewhere do not make a man a poet; let none on the strength of such trifles think himself the peer of the masters; as crass as a mule is the fellow ready to brag of a few odd, ragged lines.

16. მეორე ლექსი, ცოტაი - ნაწილი მოშაირეთა,
არ ძალუც სრულქმნა სიტყვათა, გულისა გასაგმირეთა,-
ვამსგავსე მშვილდი ბედითი ყმაწვილთა მონადირეთა:
და დიდსა ვერ მოჰკლვენ, ხელად აქვს ხოცა ნადირთა მცირეთა.

Wardrop 23. Secondly, lyrics which are but a small part of poetry and cannot command heart-piercing words – I may liken them to the bad bows of young hunters who cannot kill big game; they are able only to slay the small.

Urushadze 16. Then again there are poets who wish but are powerless to compose
Verses capable of penetrating deep into one's heart.
I may compare them to the bows and arrows of youthful hunters
Who cannot bring down big beasts, but kill only small game.

Vivian 16. Minor poets, again, are they whose lot it is
Heart-stirring phrases not to command: their arm,
As with a youthful archer in the field untried,
Falling short of the great, finds but the lesser game.

Stevenson. There are, too, those poems that are no more than snatches: one cannot look in such things for words that will pierce the heart; they are like the wretched little bows that boys have for hunting – good enough to bring down small game, but of no use against larger beasts.

17. მესამე ლექსი კარგია სანადიმოდ, სამღერელად,
სააშიკოდ, სალაღობოდ, ამხანაგთა სათრეველად;
ჩვენ მათიცა გვეამების, რაცა ოდენ თქვან ნათელად.
და მოშაირე არა ჰქვიან, ვერას იტყვის ვინცა გრძელად.

Wardrop 24. Thirdly, lyrics are fit for the festive, the joyous, the amorous, the merry, for pleasantries of comrades; they please us when they are rightly sung. Those are not called poets who cannot compose a long work.

Urushadze 17. A third kind of poems is composed for mirth and revelry,
For the lover, the joyous and merry, for the pleasures of boon companions.
We may find some of them pleasing both to the heart and the ear,
But remember, only he who writes majestic poetry is a poet.

Vivian 17. Thirdly, songs for the wine-cup and for gallantry –
Made for a feast, a tryst, a jest between friend and friend –
Clear in expression, these oft may delight us: yet
Poet is none but he who a long lay has penned.

Stevenson. Then there are those of yet a third sort, songs that go with drinking and gaiety, the game of love and the laughter of friends: they may win our applause when all is done with accomplishment. …But only the man whose design is a large one can be called a true poet.

18. ხამს, მელექსე ნაჭირვებსა მისსა ცუდად არ აბრკმობდეს,
ერთი უჩნდეს სამიჯნურო, ერთსა ვისმე აშიკობდეს,
ყოვლსა მისთვის ხელოვნობდეს, მას აქებდეს, მას ამკობდეს, -
და მისგან კიდე ნურა უნდა, - მისთვის ენამუსიკობდეს.

Wardrop 25. The poet must not spend his toil in vain. One should seem to him worthy of love; he must be devoted to one, he must employ all his art for her, he must praise her, he must set forth the glory of his beloved; he must wish for nought else, for her alone must his tongue be tuneful.

Urushadze 18. All the poet's endeavours must not be spent in vain.
He must be devoted to one whom he considers worthy of loving,
And employ all his talents and skill in praising and glorifying her name.
For her alone must he sing in sweet melodious measures.

Vivian 18. Not with random step shall the poet pursue his calling:
When he beholds that one who quickens his heart to love
He shall court her, toil for her, naught but from her desiring,
Singing for her alone whom he sets all else above.

Stevenson. The poet must not squander the powers that are in him: one lady alone should command his devotion; he should call forth the whole of his art for her praise; he should have but one longing; he should give her glory in song.

19. ჩემი აწ ცანით ყოველმან, მას ვაქებ, ვინცა მიქია;
ესე მიჩნს დიდად სახელად, არ თავი გამიქიქია!
იგია ჩემი სიცოცხლე, უწყალო ვითა ჯიქია;
და მისი სახელი შეფარვით ქვემორე მითქვამს, მიქია.

Wardrop 26. Now let all know that I praise her whom I (erstwhile) praised; in this I have great glory, I feel no shame. She is my life; merciless as a leopard is she. Her name I pronounce hereafter with triumph and praise.

Urushadze 19. Hear all and know, I praise her whom I have hitherto praised!
In this I have endless glory; in this I am bold and shameless.
She, who is my life, is a beautiful merciless panther.
I shall devote my skill hereafter to exalt her name.

Vivian 19. Now be it known to all: it is my pride to give
Glory to her whose praise I uttered heretofore.
She is my life – she is a tiger pitiless.
Here I conceal her name, and sing of her once more.

Stevenson. Now let it be known to all that the lady I laud here is she of whom I have sung in the past, and none other. Great will my renown be, no task of dishonor this! Cruel as a leopard, she is yet life itself to me: in this tale she is pictured under a name not her own.

20. ვთქვა მიჯნურობა პირველი და ტომი გვართა ზენათა,
ძნელად სათქმელი, საჭირო გამოსაგები ენათა;
იგია საქმე საზეო, მომცემი აღმაფრენათა;
და ვინცა ეცდების, თმობამცა ჰქონდა მრავალთა წყენათა.

Wardrop 27. I speak of the highest love – divine in its kind. It is difficult to discourse thereon, ill to tell forth with tongues. It is heavenly, upraising the soul on pinions. Whoever strives thereafter must indeed have endurance of many griefs.

Urushadze 20. I speak of love's highest form - elevated, pure and heavenly,
Eloquence weakens when the tongue attempts to speak of such love.
It uplifts to heaven the soul of those who endure love's anguish.
A lover, therefore, must know how to endure and bear these afflictions.

Vivian 20. I speak of the Love that is highest, Heaven’s is kind –
Hardly to be described or by the tongue expressed –
Love that exalts and gives man wings for upward flight:
Great trials are his who ventures upon that quest.

Stevenson. I would speak of a love first whose nature is heavenly; hard is it to discourse on, to treat of in words: a thing not of this world, it draws the soul to heights beyond: he who attains to it will receive strength against grief.

21. მას ერთსა მიჯნურობასა ჭკვიანნი ვერ მიხვდებიან,
ენა დაშვრების, მსმენლისა ყურნიცა დავალდებიან;
ვთქვნე ხელობანი ქვენანი, რომელნი ხორცთა ხვდებიან;
და მართ მასვე ჰბაძვენ, თუ ოდენ არ სიძვენ, შორით ბნდებიან.

Wardrop 28. Sages cannot comprehend that one Love; the tongue will tire, the ears of the listeners will become wearied; I must tell of lower frenzies, which befall human beings; they imitate it when they wanton not, but faint from afar.

Urushadze 21. Even a discerning mind cannot comprehend that love,
Though the tongue grow tired or the ears of the hearer weary.
I speak of the lower passions of man who when not lustfully kissing
Strives to imitate love but only faints from afar.

Vivian 21. Not by the thinker’s wit is that one Love attained
Though the tongue grow weary in telling, the listener tire.
I tell of human passions that, not impure,
Imitate the divine and to the heights aspire.

Stevenson. But far is it beyond the understanding of even the wisest men; it makes the tongue weary and brings fatigue to the ear of the listener. My theme is rather the earthly passion that visits us mortals – which has yet some likeness to the mystic when there is nothing wanton in it, only silence and longing.

22. მიჯნური შმაგსა გვიქვიან არაბულითა ენითა,
მით რომე შმაგობს მისისა ვერმიხვდომისა წყენითა;
ზოგსა აქვს საღმრთო სიახლე, დაშვრების აღმაფრენითა,
და კვლა ზოგთა ქვე უც ბუნება კეკლუცთა ზედა ფრფენითა.

Wardrop 29. In the Arabic tongue they call the lover “madman”, because by non-fruition he loses his wits. Some have nearness to God, but they weary in the flight; then again, to others it is natural to pursue beauty.

Urushadze 22. In the Arabic tongue a lover is called a madman
Because of non-fulfilment and futile longing for her.
Some, though exhausted, feel nearness to God as their souls soar upward.
Others, prey to low passions, fly from one fair maiden to another.

Vivian 22. Madmen, they who love are called in the Arabic tongue –
Mad from the pangs of love beyond attain.
Some in their high ascent approach to the divine;
Others here below flutter in beauty’s flame.

Stevenson. In the speech of the Arabs our lover means ‘madman’; lovers are robbed of their wits by a cruel denial. … Some seek nearness to God but are wearied by soaring; others grosser of nature will run after women.

23. მიჯნურსა თვალად სიტურფე მართებს, მართ ვითა მზეობა,
სიბრძნე, სიუხვე, სიმდიდრე, სიყმე და მოცალეობა,
ენა, გონება, დათმობა, მძლეთა მებრძოლთა მძლეობა.
და ვისცა ეს სრულად არა სჭირს, აკლია მიჯნურთ ზნეობა.

Wardrop 8. To a lover, beauty, glorious beauty, wisdom, wealth, generosity, youth and leisure are fitting; he must be eloquent, intelligent, patient, an overcomer of mighty adversaries; who has not all these qualities lacks the character of a lover.

Urushadze 23. Beauty befits a lover like unto the sun on high.
He must have youth and leisure, be generous, wealthy and wise,
Patient, intelligent and eloquent, the mightiest among the mighty.
If devoid of all these qualities a lover is not a true lover.

Vivian 23. Fair as the sun to behold is the lover; wisdom and wealth
Are his, generosity, leisure. wit and youth,
Eloquence, patience, might in battle to prevail –
He who lacks aught of these no lover is in truth.

Stevenson. A lover should be even as fair as the sun itself, deep of mind, possessed of riches, generous of heart, in the flower of youth, and with time at command. He should have eloquence of tongue, a good understanding, endurance, and the strength that brings victory over mighty antagonists. He who falls short of this is not to be reckoned a lover.

24. მიჯნურობა არის ტურფა, საცოდნელად ძნელი გვარი;
მიჯნურობა სხვა რამეა, არ სიძვისა დასადარი:
იგი სხვაა, სიძვა სხვაა, შუა უზის დიდი ზღვარი,
და ნუვინ გარევთ ერთმანერთსა! გესმის ჩემი ნაუბარი?

Wardrop 9. Love is tender, a thing hard to be known. True love is something apart from lust, and cannot be likened thereto; it is one thing; lust is quite another thing, and between them lies a broad boundary; in no way do they mingle – hear my saying!

Urushadze 24. Love is sacred and tender, hard to know or define.
It is not kindred to lust; it is something beyond it - divine.
Love is one thing; lust another; in no way do they mingle.
Between true love and lust lies an impregnable boundary.

Vivian 24. Love’s nature is delicate, hard to comprehend;
Liken it not to lust or wanton lechery.
Mark well my meaning: love is from these apart
Far as it were sundered from them by a boundless sea.

Stevenson. Love is a thing rare and fine, hard to comprehend; it can in no way be likened to the desire of the flesh. Love is one thing, desire another; and deep indeed is the chasm that stretches between them. Let them not be confounded – give ear to my words!

25. ხამს მიჯნური ხანიერი, არ მეძავი, ბილწი, მრუში,
რა მოჰშორდეს მოყვარესა, გაამრავლოს სულთქმა-უში,
გული ერთსა დააჯეროს, კუშტი მიხვდეს, თუნდა ქუში;
და მძულს უგულო სიყვარული, ხვევნა-კოცნა, მტლაში-მტლუში.

Wardrop 10. The lover must be constant, not lewd, impure and faithless; when he is far from his beloved he must heave sigh upon sigh; his heart must be fixed on one from whom he endures wrath or sorrow if need be. I hate heartless love – embracing, kissing, noisy bussing.

Urushadze 25. He who loves should be constant, never lewd nor faithless.
Absence from her he loves should wring sigh upon sigh from his heart.
He must be true to her though she frown upon him in anger.
I hate the lover who seeks only hugging and lusty kissing.

Vivian 25. Constancy becomes a lover: not faithless he
Nor in absence ever to venery inclined,
Long languishing though the belov’d upon him frown:
Love-play without love detestable I find.

Stevenson. The lover must be constant and free from all stain and adultery; when parted from his lady he should for ever be sighing; his heart must yearn for one and one only, though she be cruel and unkind. Love-making with no heart to it I find utterly hateful.

26. ამა საქმესა მიჯნური ნუ უხმობს მიჯნურობასა,
დღეს ერთი უნდეს, ხვალე სხვა, სთმობდეს გაყრისა თმობასა;
ესე მღერასა ბედითსა ჰგავს, ვაჟთა ყმაწვილობასა.
და კარგი მიჯნური იგია, ვინ იქს სოფლისა თმობასა.

Wardrop 11. Lovers, call not this thing love: when any longs for one to-day and another to-morrow, (lightly) bearing parting’s pain. Such base sport is like mere boyish trifling: the good lover is he who suffers a world’s woe.

Urushadze 26. A lover does not long for one today and another tomorrow.
He cannot endure love's parting or absence from her whom he worships.
Such sport is shameful, base, more like the trifling of boys.
The lover is he who suffers the whole world's woes and sorrows.

Vivian 26. Say not that he loves, who but in a dalliance roves
Lightly from one to other as light from day to day,
Whom parting pains not – his is the idle sport
Of boys: a true lover rejects the world always.

Stevenson. This one today, that other tomorrow; parting without a pang – this is not worthy of the name of love! It resembles nothing so much as the idle games boys play together: the true lover is he who can endure the woes that Fate sends him.

27. არს პირველი მიჯნურობა არდაჩენა, ჭირთა მალვა,
თავისწინა იგონებდეს, ნიადაგმცა ჰქონდა ხალვა,
შორით ბნედა, შორით კვდომა, შორით დაგვა, შორით ალვა,
და დასთმოს წყრომა მოყვრისაგან, მისი ჰქონდეს შიში, კრძალვა.

Wardrop 12. There is a first (? noblest) love; it does not show, but hides its woes; (the lover) thinks of it when he is alone, and always seeks solitude; his fainting, dying, burning, flaming, all are from afar; he may face the wrath of kings, yet will he be fearful of her.

Urushadze 27. There is a love - the noblest - which reveals not its woes but conceals them.
The lover seeks solitude for when alone he bestows all his thoughts upon love.
Thus his fainting, dying, burning, are all from afar;
He may face the wrath of his beloved, yet must he fear and revere her.

Vivian 27. Love’s first condition is that the lover conceal
Well his passion, in solitude ever his secret guarding,
Sighing still from afar, from afar a fire with desire,
Fearing her displeasure, his lady with awe regarding.

Stevenson. The lover’s first duty is concealment of sorrow; he should cherish his passion in secret, should always seek solitude. Pining, yearning and burning in the furnace of grief – all these from afar. …He must bear his lady’s displeasure, hold her in fear and in reverence.

28. ხამს, თავისსა ხვაშიადსა არვისთანა ამჟღავნებდეს,
არ ბედითად ჰაჲჰაჲზმიდეს, მოყვარესა აყივნებდეს,
არსით აჩნდეს მიჯნურობა, არასადა იფერებდეს,
და მისთვის ჭირი ლხინად უჩნდეს, მისთვის ცეცხლსა მოიდებდეს.

Wardrop 13. He must betray his secret to none, he must not basely groan and put his beloved to shame; in nought should he manifest his love, nowhere must he reveal it; for her sake he looks upon sorrow as joy, for her sake he would willingly be burned (or? willingly burns [with love]).

Urushadze 28. A lover must never reveal his love but keep it hidden,
Nor should he basely sigh and put his loved one to shame;
Nowhere should he show his love, nor reveal it to any man.
Enduring woes and burning in fire for her sake should be joy.

Vivian 28. Never may he proclaim the fire that burns within,
Never by vulgar plaint dishonour her fair name,
He who loves will keep his secret inviolate;
Sweet, for her sake, should seem to him the burning flame.

Stevenson. Let him betray his secret to none, let him not bring shame on his beloved with clownish lamentation; let him reveal his passion in no way, nowhere make it known. For her sake he must look on sorrow as joy, for her sake he must be consumed in love’s fires.

29. მას უშმაგო ვით მიენდოს, ვინ მოყვარე გაამჩივნოს?
ამის მეტი რამცა ირგო: მას ავნოს და თვითცა ივნოს.
რათამეღა ასახელოს, რა სიტყვითა მოაყივნოს?
და რა გავა, თუ მოყვარესა კაცმან გული არ ატკივნოს!

Wardrop 14. How can the sane trust him who noises his love abroad, and what shall it profit to do this? He makes her suffer, and he himself suffers. How should he glorify her if he shame her with words? What a chance if one hurt not his beloved’s heart!

Urushadze 29. Only a madman would trust the man who noises his love abroad.
By this he makes her suffer, by this he suffers himself.
How can he glorify her if he shames her with a surfeit of words?
That would only profane the love that she cherishes for him.

Vivian 29. Who in his wits has faith in one who his love betrays?
Gain there is none, but both must suffer injury.
How shall he set in glory one whom his words have shamed?
Wound not your love thus with contumely!

Stevenson. How can any man in his right mind put trust in the babbler who noises his love abroad – what good can come of that? The lover will only do harm to his lady, and to himself also. How can he endue her with fame when with his tongue he dishonors her, why should her heart have to suffer such wounds?

30. მიკვირს, კაცი რად იფერებს საყვარლისა სიყვარულსა:
ვინცა უყვარს, რად აყივნებს მისთვის მკვდარსა, მისთვის წყლულსა?!
თუ არ უყვარს, რად არა სძულს? რად აყივნებს, რაცა სძულსა?!
და ავსა კაცსა ავი სიტყვა ურჩევნია სულსა, გულსა.

Wardrop 30. I wonder why men show that they love the beloved. Why shame they her whom they love, her who slays herself for them, who is covered with wounds? If they love her not, why do they not manifest to her feelings of hatred? Why do they disgrace what they hate? But an evil man loves an evil word more than his soul or heart.

Urushadze 30. It makes me wonder to think there are men
who make a show of their love.
Why add pain to a heart, already wounded by love?
If they have no love for her then why do they hide their hatred?
But an evil man loves an evil word more than his soul.

Vivian 30. Strange is it to me that a lover should parade
His passion for one who for his sake would die.
When there is love – not hate – where is the need to shame?
Base men prefer base words to loyalty.

Stevenson. Strange that men should be without care to keep their love hidden! How can they bring shame upon those who are wasting away in their longing? If they care nothing, so be it – but why offer a wrong thus? Yet, in truth, to an evil man an evil word is dearer than his heart or his soul!

31. თუ მოყვარე მოყვრისათვის ტირს, ტირილსა ემართლების;
სიარული, მარტოობა შვენის, გაჭრად დაეთვლების;
იგონებდეს, მისგან კიდე ნურად ოდეს მოეცლების,
და არ დააჩნდეს მიჯნურობა, სჯობს, თუ კაცთა ეახლების.

Wardrop 31. If the lover weep for his beloved, tears are her (? his) due. Wandering and solitude befit him, and must be esteemed as roaming. He will have time for nothing but to think of her. If he be among men, it is better that he manifest not his love.

Urushadze 31. Judge not severely the tears of a lover; tears are his due.
Weeping and solitude befit him and the roaming of plains and forests.
When absent from her his thoughts should be of her whom he worships,
But when among men it is better he conceal his love within him.

Vivian 31. Sighing for love befits the lover; as one apart
Ever in solitude he must wander far afield,
Having no thought or care for aught but the belov’d,
Keeping his love in others’ presence unrevealed.

Stevenson. If a lover weeps for his lady, he does as is fitting: let him roam alone through desert places as one who has renounced the world: his mind should be filled with the thought of her wholly. But let his love stay concealed when he moves among men.