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

Thursday, 10 December 2009

Zareh Khrakhuni - ON THE FREEDOM TRAIL

REVOLUTION

So what, you say,
So what's wrong with it
If you're not allowed on the street
At night until sunrise?
And everyone -- I mean everyone --
Stayed home during the day
And hit the streets at night
Until sunrise

Tell me -- so what? Tell me,
Please tell me . . .

--------------------

ELECTION


One day –
and you won't forget that day
You will see
That elections are held
Everyone in their Sunday best
Rush to a ballot box
Stand in line like good boys
To exercise their
Holiest of holies
-- Unique, one of a kind right --
To cast their ballots
Then when they open the boxes
You know what happens?
Each one has voted for himself
Casting his only ballot
For himself -- everyone
With no exception
You on that day
You'll never forget
That day . . .

--------------

CONSTITUTION

Whereas
The road to freedom is paved
With the bodies of those who died
For freedom

Whereas
The flaming flowers of liberty
That bloom along the road
Are created on the faces of bodies
Fallen on the freedom trail
By bullets fired against freedom

Whereas
Freedom's blood-red torch
Burning at the end of the road
Remote and enticing as liberty itself
Has been lit by the spark of eyes
Closed for the love of freedom
It feeds on streams of blood
Shed for freedom
It's inflamed by the breath
Taken for the love of liberty

It crackles endlessly with the loud roar
Of the crowds shouting
The fair name of freedom.

------------------------------

GOVERNMENT

It's a baton that moves
Arms fingers move
Lungs lips blow
Hands beat hearts
A sound -- a sound comes out
A melody is played endlessly
Right or wrong -- good or bad
The leader keeps moving the baton
Attentively the players
Look at the score
Of the concert that's announced --
And all are duped
They think that
A normal concert is given
A little wand moves -- and in response
Nerve and muscle move . . .

Whereas for a while now
All in unison
The players play on their own
Hitting any note they wish
Sounding any way they want
It's the baton in despair
That falls in line
And moves in step . . .


Zareh Khrakhuni
Translated by Tatul Sonentz

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