Passage A.392

rendering, not the wording of the record

I am Sanatai, my child, a woman of Apkhusho, here I was asked for in marriage [?], a Beridze was my husband. I raised seven brave men, each one like a lion. All seven were cut down in one day, their father lies dead with them. I buried them on Khoshari hill, the wind weeps over their heads.