Mdidari K’atsi, Gharibi K’atsi
Music: Gogia K’avtiashvili
Text: Unknown
(scroll down for English translation)
Tskhovreba mart’o tskhadliv rodia
Zogjer sizmars hgavs tskhadzets ts’inaris
/Tsudits stsodnia k’argits stsodnia
Amit qopila mouts’qinari/
Aravis gvk’itkhavs did khans arapers
Sad gagvitenos sad dagvighamos
/Mosula vin gvk’itkha, ts’asvlas vin gvk’itkhavs
Chvens beds da ighbals tskhva sts’qveds uchvenod/
Vin iqo net’av vin iqo igi
Ase ugulo da ase mk’atsri
/Ra sakhelebi chamogviriga
Mdidari k’atsi da gharibi k’atsi/
K’atsis simdidre k’atsis dideba
Gulia tu mas guli akvs kvelis
/Mdidari k’atsi khshirad gvch’irdeba
Upro khshirad k’i gharibi gshvelis/
Da tu msurs akhlats gharibad movk’vde
Aba es gana gasak’viria
/Mdidrebi upro uk’et markhaven
Magram gharibni gulit t’irian/
Madloba upals man uts’qis mkholod
Ik vin ts’ava da ak vin darcheba
/Mash gaumarjos am supris p’at’rons
Kharis kedsa da glekhis marjvenas/
Translation:
Rich Man, Poor Man
Life makes sense sometimes
When it resembles your latest dream
It’s never boring because
It knows both good and bad
No one ever asks us anything --
Where we would like the sun to rise and set
No one cares when we come and where we go from this world
Someone else is deciding our fate and fortune.
Who was it, I wish to know
So severe and heartless
That gave us our status on earth
As rich man or poor man?
A man’s wealth is a man’s glory
Only if his heart is generous
We often need a rich man
But are more often helped by a poor man
And if I wished to die poor
Would it be so strange a desire?
For the rich have upscale funerals
But the poor cry from their hearts.
Praise God, for only He knows
Who will go there and who will stay here
So long live he who supplied us this feast…
To the ox’s strength and to the peasant’s right hand!
Eldara Bukvaidze