Napoleon glanced over France and said:
"What is the result of reign of mine?"
And seeing his glory shed around,
A light cast down upon his mind.

"That is enough" - he uttered
"My dream’s fulfilled: the world is bewildered by my name,
France is flourished by my glory
and foes are crushed for my wondrous fame and story"

"Yet my soul cannot rest in this body!
The Fate is playing with my crown,
And I must praise her to the utmost;
The time is mine and I am her only hope!"

"But, what if the Fate turns back to me,
And crowns with my fame another fellow?
No, I do not believe she can betray me:
She gave me birth and would not sacrifice her Son!

Napoleon cannot tolerate his rivals.
"No matter how powerful or skillful man,
I still cannot learn from him, nor he equals me.
The grave itself would be too small for me if I had a peer!

The years will pass until we comprehend him!
The Death itself reveals his fame:
The smoldering fire and roar of waves
uncovers his fiery soul and boundless heart!

The azure blue, the heavenly hue,
The first created realm of blue;
And over its radiance divine
My soul does pour its love sublime.

My heart that once with joy did glow
Is plunged in sorrow and in woe,
But yet it thrills and loves anew
To view again the sapphire blue.

I love to gaze on lovely eyes
That swim in azure from the skies;
The heavens lend this color fair,
Arid leave a dream of gladness there.

Enamored of the limpid sky,
My thoughts take wing to regions high,
And in that blue of liquid fire
In raptured ecstasy expire.

When I am dead no tears will flow
Upon my lonely grave below,
But from above the aerial blue
Will scatter over me tears of dew.

The mists about my tomb will wind
A veil of pearl with shadows twined;
But lured by sunbeams from on high
‘Twill melt into the azure sky.

An aloe stands in solitude upon a lofty precipice;
The sunbeams mingling with the shades the myriad boughs caress and kits.
'Tis Joy to dream beneath her shade - a refuge from this world of woe-
Where rustling leaves give soft response to murmurs of the stream below.

The wind the slender aloe bends; the river hums in harmony;
And all these sounds sweet slumber lure, where dreams expire in melody.
'Midst nature's things there is a tongue - the essence of a flow divine:
In vain can mortal lips express a sound more eloquent and fine!

In hopeless love the Mtkvari heaves; the rushing waters swish and hiss;
It cannot reach its loved one's feet, and beats with wrath the precipice.
The fair chinnari from its height in proud and haughty dignity,
Inclines its head and sadly sighs as Mtkvari groans in agony.

As gentle breezes sway the tree, the waters whirled from passions deep
By jealous frenzy rendered white, burst on and lash the rocky steep...
The heart must suffer endless pain if love sincere within it hides,
And if the love thus cherished dear in scorching fires of passion bides!

O Evil Spirit! You fiend of hell! who bade you be my guide,
To storm my life, to burn my brain and every joy to hide?
Why did you steal my peace and calm, my soul besteep in grief?
Why did you crush my youthful heart and kill its faith, belief?

Is this the pledge, the promised bliss my youth did hope from thee;
My soul to wing in fancied joy to realms of liberty?
Midst burning tears and woe-rent fears bright smiles I thought to find;
In hell I sought a paradise-to truth my eyes were blind.

Your words so false, though wondrous bright, where have they
Why did you tempt my wishes true - to be by furies led?
Reply! You fiend! You are silent now? 'Tis late to slink away;
Your power to charm, to lure, to blind, why has it lost its sway?

O cursed be that day when I blindly placed my faith and trust in thee,
And yielded up my fondest hopes, and let them martyred be!
Henceforth my soul does sob and sigh; its peace I flung away;
Its raging fires, its hopes, desires,- no passion's flame can slay!

Avaunt! Begonel O demon false! You harbinger of woe!
At random driven, my tortured soul no safe retreat does know.
My mind lacks faith, my heart mistrusts, my soul in pain sinks low.
O woe to him who feels the sting of your deadly smiting blow!

It runs; it flies; it bears me on; it heeds no trail nor spoor;
A raven black behind me croaks with ominous eyes of doom;
Speed thee on and onward fly with a gallop that knoweth no bound,
Fling to the winds my stormy thoughts in raging darkness found.

Go onward! onward! cleaving through roaring wind and rain
Over many a mount and many a plain, short'ning my days of pain;
Seek not shelter, my flying steed, from scorching skies or storm;
Pity not thy rider sad, by self-immolation worn.

I bid farewell to parents, kin, to friends and sweetheart dear
Whose gentle voice did soothe my hopes to a hot and bitter tear.
Where the night falls, there let it dawn, there let my country be;
Only the heavenly stars above my open heart will see.

The sighs that burn, that rend the heart to stormy waves I hurl;
To thy inspired, wild maddened flight, love's waning passions whirl.
Speed thee on, and onward fly, with a gallop that knoweth no bound,
Fling to the winds my stormy thoughts, in raging darkness found.

In foreign lands thou lay me low, not where my fathers sleep;
Nor shed thou tears nor grieve, my love, nor over my body weep;
Ravens grim will dig my grave and whirlwinds wind a shroud
There, on desert plains where winds will howl in wailings loud.

No lover's tears but dew divine will moist my bed of gloom;
No dirge but vultures' shrieks will sound above my lowly tomb;
Bear me far beyond the bounds of fate, my Merani,
Fate whose slave I never was, and henceforth - never shall be!

By fate repulsed, oh bury me in a dark and lonely grave:
My bloody foe, I fear thee not - thy flashing sword I brave.
Speed thee on and onward fly with a gallop that knoweth no bound,
Fling to the winds my stormy thoughts in raging darkness found.

The yearnings of my restless soul will no in vain have glowed,
For, dashing on, my steel has paved a new untrodden road.
He who follows in our wake, a smoother path will find;
Daring all, his fateful steed shall leave dark fate behind

It runs; it flies; it bears me on; it heeds no trail nor spoor;
A raven black behind me croaks with ominous eyes of doom;
Speed thee on, and onward fly, with a gallop that knoweth no bound,
Fling to the winds my stormy thoughts, in raging darkness found.

Let none bewail the bitterness of orphancy,
Nor weep if destitute of friend or kin is he,
But pity him whose soul's bereaved by ruthless fate;
Once lost-'tis hard to find again a worthy mate.

Deprived of kin and friend the heart seems lone and dead
Yet soon it finds another one to love instead;
But if the soul does lose its mate, then it must bear
The curse of yielding all its hopes to black despair.

His faith is lost, he trusts no more this world of woe;
Distraught and wild, he shuns mankind, and does not know
To whom to trust the secrets of his troubled breast,
Afraid to feel again the faith it once possessed.

'Tis hard to bear the anguish of a soul forlorn,
To shun all worldly joys and smiles or pleasures scorn;
The lonely soul forever mourns its friend and mate,
And heavy sighs bring calm to him thus doomed by fate.