Արցախ

Թղթէ երազներ կախեցինք քո թևերին,

ու հաւատի դղեակներ դրեցինք ուսերիդ վրայ,

մեր ականջները խլացան զուռնայի ձայնից

ու չլսեցինք ահազանգող աղերսանքը քո։

Թաւշէ թիկնոց փռեցինք հիւծուող մարմնիդ վրայ

ու նոր արքային Արա անուանեցինք, միամտաբար։

Քո պարանոցին զարդեր կախեցինք պարզամտութեան

ու սնափառ խնջոյքներ արինք ցուցամոլութեամբ։

Դեռ յաղթանակի համը չտեսած՝

պարտութեան երգով շուրջպար բռնեցինք, թիւրիմացաբար։

Մենք քեզ ծնեցինք, բայց չմայրացանք,

մեր իսկ ձեռքերով քեզ խաչ հանեցինք,

մենք դաւեցինք քո մանուկ սրտին,

քեզ որբացնելով` մենք էլ որբացանք։

Սեպտ․ 29 2023 թ․

Լոս Անջելես

The Little Boy

I.

The little boy would spit down on passers-by
from a window on the fourth story
and would hide instantly
behind the blinds.
the little boy would throw stones
in the street
to break the neighbor’s window-pane
and would hide behind a wall.

II.

Standing before a broken window,
the little boy who was no longer a little boy
would spit on the street
where he had hidden his childhood
but he wouldn’t run and hide anymore.
He who was no longer a little boy
would repair the window
that the neighbor’s little boy had broken.

 

January 2009
Los Angeles
Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

The Anthology of Armenian Poets V. II

https://issuu.com/jassamvel/docs/new_armenian_poetry_v2 

یک عاشقانه کاملا" بیهوده

از تمام شهرها و کشورها گذشتم

دریاها و بادها را ورق زدم

تا تو را بیابم

حالا، اینجا

در شهر آهن و سنگ

کنارت ایستاده ام

دلتنگ و آواره

اما تو هرگز پیدایم نخواهی کرد

آخرین اسکله کالیفرنیا

باران پا به پایم می آمد

از خانه تا آخرین اسکله کالیفرنیا

باران تنم را از نگاه هیز خورشید

می پوشاند

و من دوشادوش او

باریدم آن شب

از خانه تا آخرین اسکله کالیفرنیا

جایی که کشتی های چینی

شعرهایم را می فروختند

به قیمت روزهای مفتی

که پا به پای خورشید

چتر باز کرده بودم

کنار قلبت

For Sh.

Like this tarnished sky
this frantic air
and your furiously homonymic fervor
I’ve become accustomed to the wild intrusion
of chromosomes amalgamating me.
With self-centered satisfaction, my tightened thighs
reject the patterns of self-renunciation
between the palms of your hands.
All I need is your breath
to burst through
this autocratic nonentity.
All I need is your monosyllabic name
to tell black voices from white ones.
I do need your
disrobing hands
to accommodate a thousand years
in a single night.

 

February 6, 2009
Los Angeles
Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

 

For S.

We were twins. You grew up for ten years while I was growing back, never coming of age. Actually, I like your growing up and my…..

Whenever I call on you

you shake your head

draining millions of brain cells

to make sure—or persuade—

that this is the last New Year of my wild life

that it’s high time

to grow up to be

woman

mother—

that next year we’ll be of the same age

to recall the nine months

when we lived

concurrently

in our mothers’ wombs. 

Sometimes you try to follow my tracks

but you have to admit you don’t get up enough nerve

and your ears turn deaf from the sound of breaking

(hence your recent dizziness)

You must admit I have a special gift

in finding outstanding friends

and losing them overnight—

you are well aware

why I write to you now

for you’ve heard a couple of minutes ago

the sound of my breaking in your dream.

November 9, 2011

Los Angeles

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

Far, far away

Far

far away

a pair of hazel eyes

is contemplating longingly the road of homecoming.

In the same faraway lands

a man—a father—

is smiling

concealing in himself

some melancholy.

Here

my instants, arrested in the throat of boredom,

are groaning with the scattered memories of the past.

I pick a green apple from the plate

and start nibbling it

to make you beautiful.

I know

you, too,

will bequeath a smile

and a hazel gaze

in this cherished  space.

June, 2008

Los Angeles

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

The pomegranate

I lie upon the paved roadway of my fears

on the midnight stop

he

who appears only to cranes in their dreams

envelops my body

envelops my soul

with the fingers of his gaze.

Mounted upon the second hand

I’m climbing upstairs all the while

I know

I will meet him

seated on the next stair

with my blank notebooks

and Sergei’s* pomegranate in his hands.

November 2006

Tehran

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

*Sergei Parajanov

The sea was stolen

The sea was stolen

light traveling

the city was swept away by the wind

instruments resigned

the copious law of best wishes was cancelled.

no one being born

of Adam

Zeus anymore.

The earth languished

stripped

shrunk—

encompassed in a tiny piece of land

where my world was

that is, nowhere was

that is, that was the realm

of nowhere inhabitants—

it was my heart-gnawing

solitary ward.

May 2013

Los Angeles

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

Genesis

They selected a man and a woman—a modest pair,

plucked his wings,

bade him to see the light of the world

and threw him down at 7 a.m. sharp.

Twenty-seven steps, all in all.

He knocked on the door

but there was no one inside

they’d gone to a concert—

no time to give birth to him.

June 2006

Tehran

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

When you arrived

When you arrived

there was fresh wind in your palm—

the aged air

in my house

cowered for a moment

and left without clothes.

I delved into the pockets

only to discover

a pinch of a sun

the color of my days

whispers of a dear one’s shadow

and a stolen sea.

October 2005

Tehran

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan

When the night

When the night

preserves my shadow as a manuscript

I will stretch out my hands

to pluck a dream from yesterday’s branches,

I will approach

your prehistoric—

and still newborn—waiting

to nourish your lonely moments.

Who knows maybe

this is going to please

my hesitation, grown so old.

May 2006

Tehran

Translated by Samvel Mkrtchyan