Letter of Soldier from Pshavi -
Death #2

To L
To R
Now it's a little colder here,
I'm dressed nearly in the same clothes -
I lost my hat and gun.
In my pocket ther's left bread washed in my sweat.
Here rooms are clean and walls are warm,
I drink coffee,
I don't swear any longer,
I smoke not so much.
Yes, it's happened so -
I lost fear,
In those unbearably hot days none cared for hat,
I didn't look for fear -
I lost fear somewhere behind
and then I was steping on my satiate friends,
who fell so much in love with sleeping
like dead after eating…
yes, we were eating bullets during six days
and were taking dry tears after them
in the order to swallow the bullets - sticked into our throats…
it's just habite to be in lethargy after eating,
but I hated sleeping like black death even at night,
here, even now I couldn't stand but waking up -
now it's a little cooler here,
I hear careful noise from an open window
and my neighbours are composing unintentional songs.
Here I know none.
And even from that window I looked only once,
you remember how much I was afraid of heigh,
this fear still remains in me -
clouds are seen so far away from this window,
clouds are seen so much below,
so much below
and so far.

Translation by Nino Bardzimashvili