THEIR tale is ended like a dream of the night. They are
passed away, gone beyond the world. Behold the treachery
of time; to him who thinks it long, even for him it is of a
moment, I, a certain Meskhian bard, the bard Rust'hveli,
I write this.
FOR David,1 god of the Georgians, whom the sun serves in
his course, I have put this story into verse, for his
entertainment who strikes terror from East to West,
consuming those who are traitors to him. rejoicing those
who are loyal.
HOW shall I sing David's deeds, heroic, loud-sounding,
these wondrous tales of strange, foreign monarchs! Old-time
customs and deeds, praises of those kings, have I found
and done into verse. Thus have we chattered!
THIS is such a world as is not to be trusted hy any; it
is a moment to the eyes of men. and only long enough for
the blinking of the eyelashes. What seek you, what do you ?
Fate is an insulter. For him whom Fate deceives not it is
better to be in both worlds.
MOSE Khoneli praised Amiran, son of Daredjan; Shavt'heli,
whose poem they admired, praised Abdul-Mesia; Sargis
T'hmogveli, the unwearying-tongued, praised Dilarget'h;
Rust'hveli praised Tariel, for whom his tear unceasing

1David-the consort of Queen T'hamar.