Aghaza plays host to her guests,
She roasts a ram over the flames.
They are drinking to courage,
To each others’ respect
For the rites of host and guest,
To comradeship, brotherhood, sisterhood.
When you see them together
You can’t have enough of gazing;
Yet something dark appears
Filling your sight,
Dense, black in colour,
As the words of the poet.
It shrouds it like an enchantment,
No weapon can pierce it,
No prayer can charm it away,
Nor any hand remove it.
Only the river’s noise is heard,
Raging downwards, roaring,
While beauty stares into its depths
Her neck bent, gracefully …
From Host and Guest (1893) XIV By Vazha-Pshavela
(Luka P. Razikashvili)