Breaking down cultural barriers
Transposer une culture dans une autre par delà les barrières culturelles

Thursday, 8 October 2009

Vahé Oshagan - MOTHER

The seed of life strewn lavish in markets of
endless cosmos fully twenty-four hours a week
auction sale “free to take” and the mob
rushed in a frenzy and grabbed
whatever it could take home to keep and ran back
to enchanted stores full to the brim
supplies spilled over it grasped again clasped
carried rushed out melded with demented hordes
hitting kicking knocking snatched all it found
rock animal forest sky its appetite is boundless
tears man and God apart and creates life not word
word is not life but a poor miserable pitiful yet treacherous
black hyphen a breathless voice echo of an amorphous
meaning hardly reaching the moment of creation
it will stand tall in the glow flesh and bone
embodiment of hope sorrow confusion and bliss
which is a man.

Sitting alone in a corner she focuses the appearance
that will come from the clamor of pillage
thinking “this is my lot” but knowing
by instinct that she is a mere crucible small vessel
of Creativity unreachable unutterable purposeless
to what? To what? “I don’t get it” she will repeat mechanically
until the ocean of her words dries up and their place
there comes to fill an ardent unadorned endless love
for her child and humanity the furtive magic of life.

Vahe Oshagan
May 8, 1999, Hartford
Translated by Tatul Sonentz

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