There is no such a landscape on the earth.
But often in my sleep it is repeating:
Outside the window – hills are far beyond,
Above the river dawning, shining, gleaming.
They are reflecting water that is smooth.
The colors of the hills play like a diamond.
I’d take there everyone… I wish I could…
But world offers to me… the views of ground.
And so once I came there in a dream.
The evening was as if in a museum.
And outside the window – the same hills
And mountains like mica freshly gleaming.
One of the rooms was open – in I went:
There Tsiskaridze sat amids the children,
His back to me – but kenned – I’ll not forget,
He wrote for me some words on a toy bear:
“Did you have any practice for today? “
I know what’s your name – it is Eliza.
And in a square he wrote the letter L,
Turning it over. And the Sky was risen.
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