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Akaki Tsereteli

I lived from 1846-1915. I was from Georgia, and am in the Asian category.

Akaki Tsereteli (1840-1915) - Great Georgian writer and public man

Was born in the village of Skvitori on June 9, 1840 in the family of Rostom Tsereteli, a wealthy noble man of Georgia’s Imereti region. His mother Ekaterine Abashidze was the descendant of the Georgian royal family (granddaughter of king Solomon I of Imereti ). Following the old tradition Akaki Tsereteli spent his childhood years in the village of Savane in a peasant’s family and was brought up by a peasant nanny, all of which made him feel through the peasants’ life in Georgia.

In the year of 1852 he entered the gymnasium of Kutaisi (Georgia); in 1863 he graduated from the University of Peterburg’s Department of Oriental Languages. That same year he married Natalia Bazilevskaia and lived in Moscow for a while, after which he returned to his mother land.

Akaki Tsereteli contributed greatly to the foundation of “the Society of Literacy Spreading among the Georgians”, the development of the Georgian Journalism, establishment of the permanent theatre troupe. He was the editor to the “Jester” satirical-humorous magazine. Tsereteli lead Georgia’s struggle for liberation and self-determination and was the champion of the spiritual revival of the Georgian nation.

He began to write poetry in his early years. Being the author of the remarkable poems and prose, he was acknowledged by the Georgians as the People’s Poet in his lifetime. The poet’s 50th year anniversary (1908) was to become a true national celebration for the Georgians.

Akaki Tsereteli died on January 26, 1915 and was buried at the Pantheon of the Georgian Writers and Public Men on the Mount Mtatsminda in Tbilisi.

Links of interest include http://www.caucasus.ge/vin%20vin%20aris/akaki_cereteli.htm

My poetry

  • "In vain I sought my loved one's grave;
    Despair plunged me in deepest woe.
    48 lines
  • A tiny hut that seems to be
    From far away a swallows nest
    391 lines
  • The swallow twittered, shrill and gay,
    -Arriving from across the main.
    20 lines
  • I gently strung my chonguri,
    And tuned its chords with softness low,
    32 lines
  • In pensive thought the Holy Mount
    Upon the star of morn does gaze,
    44 lines
  • Who can count the sand in oceans,
    Or the stars in skies at night?
    16 lines
  • O where are you, my sylvan reed,
    Whose notes of sadness sweetly ring;
    40 lines

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