Henrik Edoyan - TWO STATES

1.

The sun plays on my face,

Flittering like a fly.

The street swims

In the tide of summer.

I recall

Several mantras (translated all

From Sanskrit.) and contemplate

Their quintessence.

Alas! I am neither Christ

Nor Buddha,

I cannot resurrect anyone,

I cannot anoint

Any Mary Magdalene.

I can’t even heal an ailing hand!

A man approaches

Asking for a cigarette.

Alas! I do not smoke.

2.

The raindrop drops

Falls, rolls

From leaf to leaf

Runs around, frolics

Like a child.

Facing my eyes

Is the same world.

It Seems nothing changes –

The same drop runs

Around the bent branches of my years.

Today, sitting

On this wooden bench,

I cannot recall your name.

I have not bothered with you.

I have not said, “Listen to me, if you can”.

A man and a woman pass by the park,

Grey haired –

They are walking a puppy.

They did not look at me. They were silent. They left.

Henrik Edoyan

Translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - SENECA'S DEATH

The executioner’s hand descends on his shoulder

“This can’t be! This cannot be it!” Seneca whispers

Aware of death’s descending specter. 

Outside, the moonless night streams on

And Rome lives on.  And for a moment

He struggles for a comment,

But keeps his peace.  It is the end.  The philosopher’s

Attempt negates that which he ponders,

Perhaps the doubts, perhaps the fear, when

Witnessing the demise of some Christian

In the Circus, where, obedient to Caesar’s desires,

He remained silent.  Now, as he shuts his eyes,

He sees in a flash his own enormous deceit, yet,

Remains silent.  It is too late.  Time to depart.

Henrik Edoyan

1993 

Translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - CARRY ME SLOW AND EASY

Carry me slow,

carry me easy,

the sun shines bright

in the days' mirror

opening craters

of fire and light.

Carry me along the streets

like a gasping fish

that's washed ashore.

Carry me as you sway

against the orchard's fence,

where people sit

and surrender their hearts

to the illusion of the day.

Hey, stay easy

on your wooden cot –

this day has an end,

an end without god.

HENRIK EDOYAN

translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - A BIOGRAPHY THAT CAN ALSO BE MINE

He came,

he put on his coat,

pulled up the collar,

stood under the rain,

he lit a cigarette,

smoked,

(he left Prevert's ashes

in the ash-tray),

he waited.

He waited.

He died.

Henrik Edoyan

 translated by Tatul Sonentz 

Henrik Edoyan - WHEN I SLEEP

Your unanswered expectation,

your step, your anger

usher in the night and throw it on you

and the attendants of loneliness

come in with lances

wink at each other and take you away.

They have twelve hours till morning

and twelve hours till evening.

When I sleep let there be someone nearby,

to sit by, to smoke, to say nothing,

to just be there, to breathe.

When I sleep, let someone

lay a blanket on me.

Henrik Edoyan

 translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - THE WORD

1.

If the gods are immortal men -

then all men are divine.

If all men are divine

then there's one God -

the Word itself.

2.

"Life is same as death" -

they s aid in the East.

"Death is same as life" -

they said in the West.

Between the two

there's a line -- the word.

3.

Your life, it seems,

was a return home.

This is my l ife --

asleep or awake.

(Speech without word.)

Thus, two lives,

one loneliness.

Henrik Edoyan

 translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - THIS IS MY LOVE

There she goes, down the street,

she doesn't know me --

my first love, whom I know

and follow up the street,

among indifferent pedestrians.

I collect the years

rusty javelins -- one by one,

and set them aside, faces, as well,

whose names I call

along dark, deserted hallways --

confessions made daily

in a body that's bloating fast.

There, among indifferent pedestrians --

my first love,

who cares, if time flies?

One step backwards -- it's my last love.

Henrik Edoyan

 translated by Tatul Sonentz

Henrik Edoyan - TWO SONNETS FOR MY MOTHER

1.
Sorrow has no image, it is relayed
only as fate and shade of love
that shivered, shone in your eyes
like immortal lights in holy Eden,
where there is no pain, no wound, no dungeon
to scourge the distressed body,
to turn life to stone, day to sunset
and to turn word to mute silence.
But you managed to walk that route
like a pilgrim and to keep within you
the thorns, dispensed to you by fate,
as a stern angel, with extended hand said,
“Can you bear this?’ You replied,
“Thy will be done; let me have it.”

2.
The world as dream and love as victim,
you imbibed life from God’s hands;
what you drank was bitter, but through the prayers
a visage watched you, flooded in the light
of your ancient heritage. Loss, death and famine –
but that which was past, you bore within you,
and to all passers-by you offered it as bread
of salvation and host of hope
in the palm of your hand. There in Eden,
a brush emanates light and in silent tenderness
a different flower bows its head
on your bushes, as in a faint glow
your life, which you have lived, passes by
like an autumn cloud over this somber earth.


Henrik Edoyan
Translated by Tatul Sonentz