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Had any power over men?
Acknowledge your master, foul dog!
Become a sacrifice for our Darla!
A dog will be a sacrifice to
the infidel.
Darla, forget you ever suffered.
Darla, look up and you will see
The whole village here gathered,
As did the villain who killed thee.
As sacrifice to the other world
We'll throw him to lie beside you.
It's time for the murderer obscene
To go down to the dark of coffin!
Acknowledge your master, foul dog!
Become a sacrifice to our Darla!
A dog will be a sacrifice...
A dog will be a sacrifice...
His woman's life was sweet and quiet
Under the shelter of her husband,
When in the stillness of the night
She lay beside him in their bed.
So close together were their breasts
At midnight hour.
Who would have guessed
That people make her forget him now.
His life slips away, his blood is
spilling.
Zviadauri was dying, no doubt.
But his courageous heart the killer
Could neither subjugate nor rout.
Allah is our witness, don't we know
That he hasn't smeared his soul with
sin.
He fought with us like a tiger though
And fallen for the land of his kin.
We wouldn't even touch the Khevsur
If our foes hadn't beaten us.
But foes are there to fight them.
To be a sacrifice he did not want,
So let him lie in the cold and dark -
It is his well-deserved lot.
The Kistins hadn't attained their goal,
Though they cut the brave man's head.
And, as they planned to, they failed
to dole
A generous dinner to the dead.
The night was falling once again.
The last sunray had left the slopes.
And dark, reclaiming its domain,
Clouded the mountains' high tops.
With inexplicable distress,
The proud cliff at the graveyard peers
And pours over feeble universe
The slow-flowing streams of tears.
The graveside stillness calls for grief,
A brother's remains for a sister's
weeping,
The woods at night for a deer's gallop
swift
And feasts of wolves, rapacious and
sweeping.
Death on the battlefield is fitting
For one who holds a sword in his hand,
For a fight - the enemy being smitten
And the hero's triumph in the end.
But who is going to mourn
Zviadauri's body though?
Only the tempest's wailing drone,
The waterfalls' thunder, the mountains'
sough.
Whenever I see only good done,
The judgment I'm not to pass.
To mourn over a fallen hero
Befits any woman, any lass.
Lord, join together the newlyweds!
Lord, join together the newlyweds!
Lord, join together the newlyweds!
Lord, join together the newlyweds!
Hear!
Hear! Hear!
Kursika Chalkhoshvili
sends his greetings to you.
I was called a thief, he says.
My good neighbors are
accusing me of stealing mules.
I swear by God, he says,
I am a thief, and I'm proud of it.
He presented gold to the newlyweds.
Praise and honor to him!
Praise and honor to him!
Sending their greetings to you
from the upper villages are
Boigar, Parangoz, Buchliya and Gelika.
From the lower villages - Antimoz,
Dzidzilo, Zviada,
as well as Tedua,
and also Givi and highlander Chalkhia.
We will spare nothing, they say,
for such a bridegroom.
We only want to drink and eat to our
heart's content at the wedding.
We'll give our Matsil whatever he
wants: Pastures and rivers,
our valleys and mountains,
everything he likes.
Praise and honor to them!
Praise and honor!
Praise and honor!
Also sending his greetings is our
Khvtisiya.
I've got beggarly, he says, in my
constant caring for my neighbor.
I have neither gold nor silver.
Nothing but this weapon
inherited from my forebears.
And I'm giving it to the bridegroom.
Praise and honor upon him!
Praise and honor!
Praise and honor!
Put the child
in the bride's lap.
May the Lord send you happiness
and such sons!
O Lord, lay to rest Thy servant.
O Lord, lay to rest Thy servant.
O Lord, lay to rest Thy servant.
O Lord, lay to rest Thy servant.
They're digging graves again.
New graves for people.
Oh, God! I cannot
see any more graves.
Show me something else,
good and joyous.

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