In memoriam: Mikhail Khergiani1
You traverse along the glacier’s edge,
Keeping your attention on the summit.
Peaks inhale the rain clouds when they rest
And exhale the avalanches’ masses.

But they never take their eyes off you,
As if you were promised their protection.
They will warn you, every time anew,
With a rockfall and the crack’s direction.

Peaks, they know that woe has come to them:
Smoke has covered every pass and gully.
You didn’t know the difference back then
That’s between the rockslides and the fighting.

If a plea for help is to emerge,
Echo of the peaks will soon start ringing,
And the wind will carry through the gorge
Mountain voices like the wireless signals.

When there was a battle for the crest2,
Hoping that you won’t be easily noticed,
Every boulder hid you with its chest,
Rocks themselves put up their granite shoulders.

It’s a lie that smart men don’t go up3!
You did go, ignoring gossips’ pressure.
Granite softened, ice stopped being hard,
And thick fog enveloped you like feathers.

If you lie in this eternal snow,
Every peak will look upon you, grieving.
And the mountain ranges will then form
The world’s first unbreakable tall pillar.