Poems by Eduard Harents (Armenia)

 

Eduard Harents

(Armenia)

 

 

***

Like fever,

the moon angle is complex

and bright…

 

The night is a river

blindly entwined from the nuance of the star…

 

The rose-braid sky is fractioning –

hung on the plaits,

like shudder

of God output from the lip…

 

Exquisite catatonia – with seven birds…

 

The times are the pollination of your bird

in my flower's dream…

 

You haven't come

into my heart again

as you have locked it with the letter of your name…

 

The tear is the door

under the angle of my bird…

 

I am inside of you,

and you're not from you…

 

* * *

I am plucking now

the eyelashes of silence one by one

to mend my prayer,

which has been torn by nuances of word…

Now the nuance is more than the voice…

And now I enter

the church of Hope barefooted,

so that my steps will not paint voices on my fortune.

How many footprints have been split apart by whispers…

While my footprint

is my prayer of love,

which never ends,

as it never colors itself in words…

And now

the main color is the truth,

that love is the poem of the feeling…

That muses don’t turn into women…

                                     (Translated from Armenian by HerminéeArshakyan)

* * *  

I know, I will wake up someday

from the mystical dinner,

will wear my father’s

damaged footsteps

as little pockets

filled with immeasurable love…

Can my days − I wonder −

scale that much unbearable

lightness?

 

Yearning

The shadow of color

is scaling

the scars of day;

walking the serenity

of an encountered dream…

The flower is the secret

of pain;

an introspective smile.

The scion names the sin.

Beyond personal bandages

of prayer,

the self-denial of a tree

is as much bright

as warm are the hands

of night.

I am freezing… your name.

(Translated from Armenian by HaroutVartanian)

 

* * *  

In all my places of absence

I sow my reticence

from you…

Yet who punctuated

among the scents of my word?

 

Absolute scars,

inside my forehead of a vigil dream…

 

Whenever you wish to translate

my bloods,

collect Job’s stones

from my poems…

 

Those are secret cells

of your Son’s

round-scripted sorrow…

(Translated from Armenian by Anna Talalyan)

 

*

Eduard Harents graduated from Yerevan State University, the faculty of Oriental Studies, and Cairo University's Centre of Arabic Language and Culture. He is an author of 10 poetry collections, and has been published in a large number of both Armenian and foreign periodicals and anthologies.

Eduard is the most translated Armenian poet of all time, with his work being translated into more than 70 languages. In 2007, 2009, 2011 and 2013, he was awarded in the Best Poetical Series and Best Translation nominations, and 2013, the young poets first prize for the book “Lethargic Vigilance”. Awards also include: the International literary prize for poetry 2015 and 2019, and the Panorama International Literature Award 2020 (India-Italy).

Also published there https://homouniversalisgr.blogspot.com/