Early Spring Northwest Cold Wind Haikai


David Chikhladze


        for Mariam Shergelashvili








Sun bat







Boat comb tree moon

Pig flower

Knife river Tinatin


Duck world

Her apple duck





Rusudan plays the ball.

Rusudan is playing.

The shepherd plays the flute.





A full moon overlooks the village.

The sheep are scattered white on the mountain.

The morning dew falls like a pearl

(The Morning dew falls like a pearl on the leaves).





The restless buzzy wind was replaced by a calm breeze.

The thin-hipped woman always wears a green dress.





Dad works

Artist paints

Axis moves





Runs on the table a blue cup

Lying on the bed blowing poppy

The wind blooms red strong





Incessant big bright sun in a wheat field

The poppy blushed. The sun is shining red.





Does not feel sorry for, eats the dish herself.

Lunch was well prepared.

The field was decorated with greenery.





On the table a tree salt flower walk

Air closet

The sea looks green.





In the fifth row in the theater

I took a third of the cake.

Nana ate bread cheese.





I can’t go to the theatre, I’m not free tonight.

I love the sea so much, I never go that far.





The boy turned up his collar, walking faster.

A shimmering golden path burned from the horizon to the shore.

The swallows made their nest in the corner of the corridor.

The sun is shining high in the sky.

The plane took off into the air.

Between the houses — plane trees.





The shepherd leads the sheep to the mountain.

The moon covered the forest with its rays like a net.

There are three pears in the basket.





What a beautiful evening

The wounded warrior sighed

The ball fell into the river





I approach the house, I lost the book.

I should have brought the book

Bring Eteri to the theater.





My village is surrounded by fields.

This is its wealth.

In the spring the breeze will cover the wet clouds over

And then take them north.





Apparently, the pencil belonged to Rusudan.

You’re almost half an hour late here.

Two friends laughed and walking — up into the foliage





By funny flowing stream

The dog barks account, fight, eating, property

Big fire in our yard





You train in the morning.

The small yard is surrounded by bushes.

The train approached Tbilisi





The May sun shone in a cloudless sky.

It was covered in snow

Small nice tourist room in the village



April 14, 2022









Poet and theatre artist David Chikhladze was born 1962 in Tbilisi, Georgia.  He has five volumes of poetry—8 Haiku (1991), Wandering Droplets (2002), The Book of Reality, in Russian (2004), D/D (2007), December Nights (2008)—and a novel, Feminine/Feminine (2008).  His writings have been published in various magazines in Georgia, Russia, Latvia, Norway, Germany, Greece, Slovenia and USA in journals as diverse as Attcus Review, Stroker, Subtle Journal of Raw Coinage, Archae Review, E·ratio Poetry Journal, World Letter, El Djarida, Dagbladet, Lost and Found Times, Suhrkamp Verlag and Karogs among many others.  In 1994 he founded Margo Korableva Performance Theatre.  Since 1999, the theater’s work platform has been featured at various venues in New York, such as: Collective:Unconscious, Here Arts, Theater Et Al, Chocolate Factory, Remote Lounge, Staten Island Arts Cypher, and Spirit Wind Performance Space (Philadelphia, Pennsylvania).  In 2002, the theater company was invited to participate in the New York International Fringe Festival.  In 1996, the company’s workshops were represented at: Capitol City Playhouse in Austin, Texas and SKC Happy Gallery in Belgrade, Yugoslavia.  Today David lives and works in Tbilisi.



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