სახლის გაყიდვა
Poetry Collection
Saunje Publishing House 2013
12.5X18
104 pages
ISBN: 9789941442841

SELLING THE HOUSE

KEVANISHVILI EKA
Selling the House is Eka Kevanishvili’s latest book, which won the literary award SABA as the best poetry collection of the year. The collection contains poems written during last several years and reflects social and gender problems, feminism, global and private wars. The author herself describes her new book as a ‘collection of little true things’. Main essence of Eka Kevanishvili’s poetry is fighting against unfairness. Her verses often cover tabooed topics, which are not very popular to write about but on the same time seems quite challenging. Young author due to her genuine writing style and her sincere attitude towards the topics, which she reveals in her poetic world, has successfully captured the critics and reader’s attention alike.


EXTRACT
Translated into English by Keti Kanchashvili and Ani Kopaliani

IT’S TIME TO THINK

It's time to think about my duties,
It's time to think why my family fell apart.
Certainly because I worked;
Certainly because I was beautiful;
Certainly because my voice was loud;
Certainly because I refused to sacrifice myself.
And for some reason I never believed
That love is a five-minute sex before going to asleep
Or walking out of a supermarket proudly
With my husband carrying dozens of packages
Nor did I believe that love is
Strolling hand-in-hand
Being pregnant
Living in a comfortable apartment,
Orwalking two steps behind myhusband,
I guess, that's why itwas dissolved
It's time to think about my duties and believe:
That only he can be exhausted;
But I have to fill the pockets of my apron with
Drying laundry, a finger burnt on a frying-pan, fits of jealousy,
The nose pressed against glass, the diapers the happy end of TV shows,
And live like that:
With patience and obedience_ it isn't so bad,
It all depends on how you look at it.
But no matter how I looked at it, I saw the same picture.
It's time to be a few times tenderer (but not sexier),
Even when he smells of another woman,
And support the family like a small wedge of wood
Inserted under a wobbly table leg;
Yes, to save the family for a little while longer
I need to keep a low profile.

I should generally like to keep my head down all the time.
I must not make love on Wednesdays and Fridays,
Unless he drunkenly gropes me
Then I should gently push him away and point up to God,
And he will say: It's not God's business, you’re my wife!
Then we will light a candle. Regret our love.
It's time for me to enjoy sacrificing myself,
Because, assuming, God,
Gave me breasts and vagina
But him superior private parts.
It's time to worship them if I want to propagate.
It's time to wash his feet
And never steal my glance upper than that
Only see him from his feet to knees and from his shoulders to forehead.
Other parts of his body I should see only in the darkness.
It's time for him to cutoff my head as if I were a dragon,
Because there is not enough space for me.
It's time for him to be the chief and the breadwinner.
While I make a daily list -today we need bread, mayonnaise, oil, green vegetables, 
Modestly adding in the end
-hygienic pads.
And be happy with just that.
I guess, it's time.
But I remember:

Once a man really washed my feet and he loved me.
Once I really washed a man's feet and I loved him.
And at that moment neither of us remembered about the holy scriptures.
And at moment neither of us remembered about any declaration.
And we had
Two bodies.
Two heads.
Four hands and four feet 
And there was enough space for us.


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