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#armenian poetry
metamorphesque · 23 hours
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"All of these flames ...", Eghishe Charents (translated by tathev simonyan)
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feral-ballad · 2 months
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from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian; "David of Sassoun"
[Text ID: "I do not feel part of the world."]
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jardindefruits · 1 year
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Let me kiss your hair, anointed with frankincense, Which, by night, beneath the moon, perfumes the pillow.
Daniel Varoujan, tr. Hratch Demiurge, from ‘Oriental Bathhouse’, Pagan Songs
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harminuya · 2 years
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I am the eye, you are the light, my love.
Blind without light is the eye.
I am a fish, the water you, my love.
Without water fish must die.
If you pull a fish from the river
and throw it in another it will live -
but if I am parted from you
I'll die without hope of reprieve.
~~~
Ես աչք ու դու լոյս, հոգի,
     առանց լո՛յս՝ աչքըն խաւարի.
Ես ձուկ ու դու ջուր, հոգի,
     առանց ջո՛ւր՝ ձուկըն մեռանի.
Երբ զձուկն ի ջըրէն հանեն
     ւ'ի այլ ջուր ձըգեն, նայ ապրի,
Երբ զիս ի քենէ զատեն,
     քան զմեռնելն այլ ճար չի լինի:
Nahapet Kuchak - 16th century Arrmenian poet.
English translation by Ewald Osers.
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wordswithloveee · 4 months
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soupmetal666 · 5 months
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Armenian Poetry of our Time, edited/translated by Diana Der-Hovanessian
"Verses for the Dark" by Vahan Tekeyan (1878-1945)
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1605001 · 2 years
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Poem by Sayat Nova, translation by Aram Tolegian
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mypoetrysblog · 2 years
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Look
at her she
wanders
my soul
humming
songs
that
i recognize
then i crave
her music
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imaginarytalk · 8 months
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The Analysis of Yearning (Garod)
by Barouyr Sevag
from “Anthology of Armenian Poetry"
translated from the Armenian by Diana Der-Hovanessian
I know the dark need, the yearning, the want, in the same way the blind man knows the inside of his old home.
I don't see my own movements and the objects hide. But without error or stumbling I maneuver among them, live among them, move like the self-winding clock which even after losing its hands keeps ticking and turning but shows neither minute nor hour.
And dangling between darkness and loneliness I want to analyze this want like a chemist to understand its nature and profound mystery. And as I try there is laughter from some mysterious tunnel, laughter from an indescribable distance, from an unhearable distance.
A city sparrow with a liquid song changes its ungreen life into music from an unechoing distance, an unhuntable distance.
And words start hurting me as they mock, echo from the unhuntable distance, this merciless distance.
I walk from wall to wall and the sound of my steps seems to come from far away from that merciless distance, that impossible distance.
I am not blind but I see nothing around me, because vision has detached itself and reached that distance that is impossibly far, excessively far.
I run after myself, incapable of ever reaching or catching what I seek.
And this is what is called want and longing or "garod."
The Analysis of Yearning
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haykhighland · 7 months
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By Najwan Darwish, Palestinian Poet
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musings-n-museums · 1 month
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i don't know which one feels more like home. (the uncertainty or the chaos)
fireworks by jaedha godwin, pinterest // split by niki // post by @haykhighland (infinite thanks for letting me use your post // special by sza // images from pinterest // post-glacial by tori mccandless // "saga (i won't forget you when i'm gone)", andrei voznesensk - translated by @metamorphesque // split by niki // image from pinterest
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metamorphesque · 20 hours
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"When there are drops of tears ...", Hovhannes Grigoryan (translated by tathev simonyan)
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feral-ballad · 18 days
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from Anthology of Armenian Poetry, ed. & tr. by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian; "Your bosom"
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his-heart-hymns · 6 months
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Dedicating Faiz Ahmed Faiz's poem to all the oppressed people throughout the world,specially Palestinians.
A few more days, my love, only a few days more
It is our lot to live under the shadow of tyranny
To suffer this outrage, to bear this pain, to weep awhile
This legacy of our past is our cross to bear
Our bodies are confined, our emotions in shackles
Worry is a prisoner, Speech is proscribed
But there’s a courage within us that keeps us going
It’s as if our very life is a beggar's garment
That needs to be patched with pain, time after time
But now these cruel times have almost run their course
This impatient longing is almost over
In this burnt desolation that is the world and its time
We have to go on, but not this way
The unbearable torment of unseen hands
The futility of heartburn, the body's unheard lament
Has to be endured for now, but not forever
This dust of sorrow that veils your beauty
This bounty of defeats on our fleeting youth
This worthless throbbing under moonlit nights
A few more days, my love, only a few days more
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wordswithloveee · 4 months
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under-the-screen · 6 months
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Let’s organize a search party
[“The color of the pomegranates”, S. Parajanov, 1968]
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