Margot Lescaut Poetry

A Georgian tale

They couldn’t stand each other since the date of their wedding

Or they thought they didn’t

Because they never gave personal space and time to each other

In order to understand the reason of their disdain

They couldn’t split up on the first month

What would people say, ‘’That was too quick’’

They couldn’t split on the first year either.

The wife hated her man.

She took all the blame for her pregnancy

Thinking: It would disappear in a 9 month period

The husband thought;

The baby will be born, everything is going to change.

What would people say, the pregnant woman escaped

The nine months passed. The wife’s feeling didn’t change

The new baby did not help the man get over his thoughts

They couldn’t split after that

People would say, she ran with a newborn baby,

Or he kicked a woman with his baby…

There was another baby…

They couldn’t get over the burden of each other at this time either

What would people say; He left two children and escaped’’

The third time when there was a baby boy,

The wife was thinking,

Maybe his heart would melt by having a baby son

No hearts became softer, the man became stranger

But still they couldn’t split

What would people say;

He left three kids and escaped or

Where was she running with her three kids?

When the wheel of the Mill started rolling backward,

They faced the death of their child, grandchild, sister, brother, mother, father and the other ones

Then they starved to death

They lost a lot and they also found a lot

There was the presence of their children’s and grandchildren’s weddings,

But nothing made them unite as one

Neither the sadness they shared, nor the happiness

The didn’t split

What would people say,

There was not time to split

In disaster, in happiness

Them they got old and they split up

There were not the people who would say anything…

Then they died. First the man died and then the woman

The children came and decided

To bury them together

That would make the things easier for them

And the people wouldn’t have to say

‘’They were buried separately’’

If I were God

If I were God,

I wouldn’t love everything unconditionally

And then I would be a word

If I were God,

I wouldn’t sculpt the human from clay just to get over boredom

First I would have fallen in love sculpting

If I were God,

First I wouldn’t make a man and then a woman

I would create both of them at the same time

They both would be fruit of my love

I would never prefer my lovely children,

I would never single out them

As mothers don’t ever do

If I were God

I wouldn’t plant a single enlightening tree of evil and kindness

But I would plant ten of them and tell my children to try each fruit and educate

If I didn’t want them to know the difference between evil and kind

Then I would never plant any trees

If I were God,

The rebellious Angel’s sins would make me laugh

Conversely,

I would be happy if I saw someone desired to learn more

I would answer all his questions,

My warm words would make him serve me

I would give him a preference as the wisest,

The most sensible, striving for perfection

I wouldn’t punish him for that and wouldn’t curse him forever

I am not scared to be afraid of competition

I am not conceited, why he started making competition with me

Why isn’t he obeying me

Because I am God and not the person pursuing small things

If I were God, I wouldn’t test my children’s love

I would accept them as they are

If I were God, I would tell people that

Happiness and joy would bring them with me

As happier they were, The road to approach me would be easier

If I were God,

I wouldn’t send humans disasters and torture to remind myself

I would send them just happiness and the power to spread happiness with others unconditionally

I would be hanging out close by, Even if they wouldn’t notice

If I were God,

I would let children live longer than their mothers

And every mother would live to see their children have grandchildren

If I were God,

Sick people would be cured with the love given to other sick people and not with the drugs

Everybody would heal each other and it would be like a flash mob

If I were God

I would never ask anything from people besides to make each other happy

There would be no need to praise or sacrifice,

Therefore I am God.

If I were God,

I would bestow humans the free will to do kind things

And the love trading would be measured with sizes and weights

If I were God,

I wouldn’t quell instincts, love and nature in humans

I wouldn’t let them be locked up like monks somewhere to praise me

If I were God,

But thank God I am not the One

Every Morning

In the mornings, at seven

When I am not sleeping or I am already awake,

I sit on the balcony and

Look at the empty street

Nothing is heard besides the dropping garbage in the cans

And the sound of janitors mopping

In the mornings, at seven,

When I am not sleeping or I am awake,

I see an old woman walking on the sidewalk with her French bulldogs

on the other side of the street, right under my balcony,

I see an old man dressed in sportswear

The man walking the opposing direction of

The lady with the dogs

I see him walking with slow steps, getting fit

I’ve never seen that woman or the man to change sides on the sidewalks,

They never overlap as parallel lines.

But in my thoughts I do overlap their roads.

I imagine, that one day they discovered each other

And then I remember that in our country,

‘’ They are too old for that’

And I see them off with my eyes to the end of their street

In the mornings, at seven,

I take a seat on my balcony

And stare at the two old people

Who never cross as parallel lines

Mirror

At this time period, at about four or five in the morning

I see lights in front of my block.

If there lived a poet, she would write,

That at the time period, at about four or five in the morning

She sees lights in one of the windows, in front of her block

There lives a woman who is thinking that

That at the time period, at about four or five in the morning

She sees lights in one of the windows, in front of her block

If there lived a poet, she would write,

That at the time period, at about four or five in the morning

She sees lights in one of the windows, in front of her block

There lives a woman who is thinking that

That at the time period, at about four or five in the morning

she sees lights in one of the windows, in front of her block

Maybe the poet doesn’t live there

Translated by Madona Selimashvili

Edited by Robby Delaware