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

Wednesday, 27 January 2010

Seta Krikorian - PROLOGUE

Under my footsteps
Snow becomes mud
Look – my feet are clean
But the shoes are not my own
They are alienation
From Beirut to Yerevan
Oakland—Los Angeles—Toronto
And now they meander in Montreal
Like a dirge yet to end…

I change my shoes from land to land
Yet my feet remain the same
Spotless as a fabled melody
That hums an outlandish ditty
Sometimes awash with femininity
At times conceited
And wounded
Seeking that ancient regal abode
Where souls never ever freeze…

Thus I walk
And walk
My feet are clean
Yet the shoes are not mine
They are the outline of my wanderings
At night
Of my obscure dreams that
Often splatter on the pavement
Like the tears of a blameless child
And at times blacken the density of light
They creak
They gasp
Like the life-giving grain
When crushed between millstones…

My shoes are not mine
But my feet are clean
And I still stride
With eternal faith
Meek as a virgin
I seek the light beneath my steps
I stretch my hand to the sun’s flames
I search for my path
Above and below
To keep my stance upright
Extended skyward
Like the Valiant Mountain
To reach that new proud abode
Where souls never ever melt…


SETA KRIkORIAN (b. 1964)
Translated by Tatul Sonentz

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