The Daland Schooner

Georgian Version here

The Daland Schooner

I woke as the night flared: thievish, slow.
In the garden, neck-deep, a mist of irises
scattered broken tinsels of shadow.
Past the garden, a bare sea heavy with noises.

I left and above me anchored the Daland
gazing upon its own image like Narcissus.
I caught a mantilla of blue for a garland,
sheltered in earthly sleepwalking irises.

I sailed to my country again on the Daland,
and under the moon my heart woke, afflicted;
I wandered the old roads. Where was my homeland?
I couldn’t remember. Had I had her, had she existed?

Then I shivered with a terrible shadow of memory:
You and Moscow, Petersburg, Lenin, the Kremlin!
The Daland skimmed off over the Black Sea,
And I wept. I wept over such easy parting.