I dream of hunchbacked Tiflis
Where the sanzandar's moans resound.
People crowd the bridges,
Carpeting the whole capital.
And below, the Kura murmers.
Above the Kura are dukhans
Where there is wine and darling pilaf
And the tanned waiter
Gives glasses to the guests
And is at your service.
In the cellar, the rich Cahetian wine
Is ready to drink.
In the coolness, in the peace.
You can drink all you like, drink two,
Or you don't have to drink at all.
In the same small inn,
If you ask for Teliani
You'll find a friend.
Tiflis is swimming in the haze,
You are swimming in the dukhan.
--Osip Mandelshtam (Translated by me)