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Answer me,
or I'll knock you off!
What are you talking about?
Why did you get that idea?
Besides, what fool would dare
to rob in the middle of the day?
Then why are you here? What have you
lost here? What are you looking for?
I'm a pilgrim, brother. A pilgrim.
Got tired of walking and sat down
to rest.
God preserve me
from stealing.
Do they rob the deceased too?
Are there such godless people on this
earth?
As many as you can imagine.
It can't be.
What do you mean, can't be?
It's the absolute truth.
But the thief
will die some day, too.
Yes, he will.
Then what are you worrying about,
old man?
It means the time will come when
the thief is robbed too.
Maybe it's so. But I won't let anyone
rob the dead. It's a sin.
All this are just visions.
And you and I are but apparitions
in this world.
So there's no point in exaggerating
your own importance.
Perhaps you're really an apparition,
but I am not.
I have a house, I eat, drink,
sleep, wake up, walk.
I'm no apparition.
Tomorrow someone else will take your
place and live in your house.
My house was burning
and people just stood watching.
And no one would even move
to try to stop the fire.
For them it was just a spectacle.
And only she
did not stand aloof.
She tried to save my house,
but the people didn't see her.
If they could see her,
they might have tried
to do something.
Only she was
trying to save my house.
The fire was devouring everything.
It was raging with such a malice
as if it was taking revenge on me.
It raged with an increasing vigor,
not suspecting that
it is not everlasting either.
It burned as long as there was
something to burn.
And when it went out,
only black coals and ashes
remained from
its recent power.
Yes, the power and greatness of
fire was illusory.
And only she,
the child of heaven, is not illusory.
Only she doesn't change,
forever beautiful,
forever sublime,
and forever human.
Pale-faced and sunk in silence dense,
All covered with nocturnal greens,
On the throne of a mountain expanse
Was seen the land of the Kistins.
Why do you wander here, son of sin?
I'm a hunter, as you can see,
But no trust I may have in you.
Why such a doubtful admission?
Why say such things just time to kill?
Or can't you meet without suspicion
A fellow traveler on the hill?
I'm a hunter too, but for now
I got no catch, for better or for worse.
All is in God's hands, you know,
At least you didn't suffer any loss.
My only loss - it was so stressing
To get to this here place, by George.
Today I climbed over every crossing,
I rummaged over every gorge.
And suddenly the gloom of night
Set in, the wind began to tear
And howl in the mountains, as might
A hungry wolf in his lonely lair.
To find a path so far from home
Was hard, at night I couldn't see.
I never had a chance to roam
Those parts, they're unknown to me.
Well, greetings, brother.
Why are you standing so far?
You had no luck today -
You'll have it tomorrow.
Greetings to you, too.
I wish you always had good luck.
Let's share, like good brothers would,
My hunting bag that I've got today.
Aren't you a Khevsur, by any chance?
What do they call you?
My name is Nunua.
My hut is in the village of Chiz.
Reveal to me your name as well.
I'm Dzhokhola Alkhastaidze.
My village is just within a stone's
throw.
If you're looking for a lodging,
We'll go there, you and I.
I don't know if it'll be to your liking,
But you're welcome in my shack.
After a good sleep you'll awaken
And can set out on the road back.
He's a fool who never sowed
To hope to reap a harvest's wealth.
You've cut the throat of the goat,
And you should have it to yourself.
I'll spend the night until daybreak
And help you carry home the game.
But sharing with you your take,
A man must have some sense of shame.
A Kistin village looks from the high,
Like an eagle preparing for its dive.
Its sight is gladdening his eye,
As would the breasts of his

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