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

Tuesday, 20 April 2010

Artem Harutiunuan - THE RIVERS OF ARTSAKH

Hot rocksides,
like a candle, the heat
stretches to the top of the poplars,
light is a beat set next to one's temple,
air seems to ignite in one's consciousness,
and then, all turn to rockbits.
We're on our way to swim in Khor Dzor,
the river smells of gleaming coolness,
of secret scents of the deep,
of concealed fish we'll try to imitate.
Than the running shade
plunges into the waters' heart,
and the flame dances to the opposite bank.

Out, towards the orchard
becoming dense deep in the leaves,
tattooed with the flight of noon over us,
there's green serenity under the leaves,
and the day is white, blinding, unnoticed,
someone begins to reign
in the depths of sunset,
the moon has left traces of nights past
through the twigs of the trees,
and that wound oozes twilight's milk.

Days of cleansing. Like shedding skin
we leave ourselves along the bank,
and reenter, briefly, the world in peace,
and the night is dense, almost blind
with the burst of stars, deaf twice over,
groping its way above the brushwood,
embalming fast the orchard's chaos,
with primordial, weightless power
always at hand but veiled.

Artem Harutiunian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz

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