Garo Armenian - PAST THE MOUNTAIN

your eyelids veil the sorrow

of dreams void of tomorrow

the breath of the one that rises

from your elemental coma

that right after contact

vanishes without a trace

leaving that tender taste

in this sedated body of yours

there’s a sky past the mountain

beyond the river is a new land

this wing of yearning soars

to its forebears’ homeland

your ancestors disappeared

hordes came by to force roots

into the navel of your lands   

your rivers revised their beds

and swarmed all your valleys

the last chapel crashed and sank

as a common covert crime  

your body lives at this time

its appalling novel life

it lives with no forewarning

with no lucid awareness

you are the sterile life itself

wrenched forever from your nature

forever ditched by your mystery

unfamiliar by your very essence

lines still trace in your palms

as moot hints of existence

summoned by thundering voices

you agonize with crimson sores

and you survive and live on

with not a hint of retreat

never ever feeling sated

ever without a single claim

you live covert a double life

deep in debt to one and all

with pennies pinched from Peter

you repay your debt to Paul

only to borrow once more

sums to be returned tenfold

you live a life of dishonor

pawning the rags that you wear

your eyelids veil the weariness

of your status devoid of dreams

your sterile chain of memories

the dark dead-end of your hopes

the road unwinds in the distance

the sound of the racket raised

by the brazen bacchanalia 

leaves you in arrears each time

you keep your faith in the dawn

you are enthralled by the moon

then you shrivel once again

and surrender to your coma

………………..Garo Armenian

August 25, 2013

Translated by Tatul Sonentz

Garo Armenian - EVERY MORNING

                                                                                                      

Awake with a start

from early dawn           

the clown of the day

springs forth  

with a heady

heartfelt toast

to the very first ray

stands facing you     ......

.... read the rest HERE

Garo Armenian - CAPITAL 5

Now that you have found your place in this lane
and this parade moves ahead with such pageantry
oblivious of our collective will

and obeying its own brawn
the genealogy of which

is unknown


Jot it down


this traffic has its own logic
the motorcars define each other
in this restless space
from morning till night
without a hint

of tolerance

They chide each other in their fervor
and with the arrogance of their pace
they subsist
without a hint

of deference

They are the mobile identities of the metropolis
that scrutinizes all this closely

and remains silent


The drivers are happenstance
they have no status
they have put their lives at our disposal
for a while
until there are no more days
one at a time
unobtrusive
until
the road swollows the last piece

Already it is not possible to guess who is going to be the sponsor of all this

Am I steering your wheels
or are you directing the traffic
all along the road
curtailing our roving existance


We shall observe this soulless goings on
from our safe sidewalks
and wonder in apprehension
when is it time to cross the road?

We shall look right and left
and seek the precious moment
looking for that window

knowing full well
that motorcars have no soul
they can trample us
if we are not cautious


Who have drawn these inane lines?
Who have set these red green and yellow lights

silently warning
that simply put

one cannot trust motorcars?


Seatbelts know something
when they squeeze your waist


Cars drive men

again we are misunderstood
again the issues of subject and gender
are lumped together
I mean
drivers are not people on this scary soil
Mashtots and Khanjian are sustained by this same regal highway
at this high noon

Behold

centuries later
it is the same incensed mob moving incessently
marching over us corraling us in its sickly circle

headed towards Rome


All roads lead there after all


How shall I put this?
Drivers are not drivers
they have become one with their machines in motion
the parts of which have been assembled far from our sight
in far-away factories
so that motorcar and driver may become one
thus completing each other

as one equestrian

We are all the confused pedestrians
standing where Sayat Nova and Abovian meet
and we are the only ones wandering around
at this hour of stifling noontime
we are the ones who do not know who we are
and where we are headed
since all borders are mixed together
since all decrees are posted
and the leading edge has caught up with us

and it is no longer possible to tell subject from predicate
with our daily spoken vulgate



Garo Armenian
July 17, 2010

Translated by Tatul Sonentz

Garo Armenian - (Hayr5)

How do words enter

into your torments

become nudity
become taste and incense?


How do words enter into your hours?

How do they quiver
and turn to fatherness?


How do words come and find you
on the edge of your death?


How are they born with their

otherness?
How do they deride the colorless sequence
set by alphabetic stature

in the packed pages of lexicons?


How do they untangle the last cipher
of concealment

with one clear glance?


How do words become revelation
enter locations

and disappear
in the great commotion?


How do words shimmer in the distance?
You seek in vain
remembering the scent

of your heart’s desire

without stopping
and always seeking
your ear tuned to her footsteps


How do words stick to their guns?
How do words reject seals?
They reject roads
living like goats
they find their path
on sheer rock

and standing alert
they observe intently
from forlorn heights

this grand astounding scene

emanating

from the tip of a reed

on the still spotless folios of this old seared skin of a sheep
forever unknown



Garo Armenian
July 27, 2010

translated by Tatul Sonentz