Poem of the day-27: "The Birth of Song"

The birth of song is fraught with joy and sorrow,
Like building life anew - one endless quest;
Today I know not what I'll write tomorrow
Though ere its birth my song gnaws at my breast.

That song is mute though from the throat it gushes,
Which from the heart and soul doth fail to spring,
To which no streamlet sings, no blossom blushes,
It is no song, whoever it may sing.

So tell me song - what is it gives you birth?
From ripples on the lake? rafts river-borne?
The fire of my beloved's sparkling eyes?
The fragrance of the new-mown hay at dawn?

The birth of song is fraught with tribulation,
Like fighting doubt that eats your heart away,
Like choosing stars from out of a constellation,
Or looking for a needle in the hay.

The dream that from the heart of hearts emerges,
No power in heaven or earth can ever slay;
For song is fragrant incense ever burning,
It is the "Yea" of Youth 'gainst Age's "Nay".

- Simon Chikovani

Wikipedia article on "SIMON CHIKOVANI":
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