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Hovhannes Grigoryan | Fathers’ land

Hovhannes Grigoryan | Fathers’ land

FATHERS’ LAND I sing this song standing, since you are the one, for whose peace one dies without hesitation, since you are the one, for whom one fights without a command, whom one names — one & only, and misses from afar, And cries from longing for you in foreign...
Vahan Teryan | She smiled at me

Vahan Teryan | She smiled at me

She smiled at me, the Nairian girl with slim waist, The Nairian girl –gloomy-eyed and modest, So bright was the face of the mountain-born, The glance so blazing and artless. And my Nairian sun as if glared also In the northern faraways and colds, As if in my field bloomed...
Tatevik Kolarski | Alice Munro’s Short Story “Amundsen”

Tatevik Kolarski | Alice Munro’s Short Story “Amundsen”

Alice Munro’s Short Story “Amundsen” and its Translation into Armenian by Anna Davtyan Alice Munro is a Canadian short story writer, winner of numerous literary awards including the 2013 Nobel Prize in Literature for her work as “master of the contemporary short story.” Her short story “Amundsen” appeared in The...
Naira Hambardzumyan | Poetry for the chosen ones

Naira Hambardzumyan | Poetry for the chosen ones

  POETRY FOR THE CHOSEN ONES In the beginning was the Time, Then the Word, then the Sin, then the Fig Leaf, And the again – the Time; and what has not been said still Is roaming in the cave. When God created the world, Created the man, created the...
Hrant Matevosyan | The Trees

Hrant Matevosyan | The Trees

You’re no good, you’re pitiful my child, my son, my firstborn, my hope, my precious, you’re no good, you hold no vengeance. Your grandpa, my papa Ishkhan had a small blood-red horse: it was so small, he says, that wasn’t taken to army and burned with fury whenever any other...
Hovhannes Tumanyan |  The Reading of the Universe

Hovhannes Tumanyan | The Reading of the Universe

You who gave me a gaze toward the skies To reach the higher ends, dive in the Sun, You who gave me a mind heavenly and vast To measure the measureless, its awesome gaps afar. You who tied us, took hold of my soul, Instilling in there the endless, its...
Artyom Grigoryan | Ups and downs

Artyom Grigoryan | Ups and downs

It makes me wonder: while the 6th floor of our building completely had been renovated with beautiful doors and highlighted painted walls, on the 7th there is only one lightbulb, which is probably not working since the collapse of the USSR, and I’m pretty sure that the guy who screwed...
Kostandin Yerznkatsi | Others malign me of envy

Kostandin Yerznkatsi | Others malign me of envy

Others chock-full of envy mean evil down with me For I compose a poetry that is a treasure sweet. They say, ‘How does his tonque have such delicacy, That among us non can compete or withstand that rivalry?’ Deceived by the dark, doomed to be blind In slumber they’ll never...
Nane Vardanyan | The history of world

Nane Vardanyan | The history of world

1 Initially there was only Adam. God created him on the sixth day and Adam become the most perfect living organism. He was the best in everything- he was the fastest, the smartest, the most beautiful, and the funniest and most experienced… He was God’s favorite. One day the snake...
Eghishe Charents | The starry wanderers

Eghishe Charents | The starry wanderers

We are two starry wanderers, Two wanderers in rags, That loved the sadness of our souls The dreamy yearning, the astral love, In love with sadness of our souls, Some dreamy yearning, some astral love. And we fall for illusion and dream, Where we drift and wander ceaselessly, Endlessly riding...
Lilit Margaryan | Why is Zabel Yessayan an important author who should be taught in Armenian Schools

Lilit Margaryan | Why is Zabel Yessayan an important author who should be taught in Armenian Schools

Zabel Yessayan is one of the most prominent and important writers of Armenian literature of the 20th century, our greatest female writer, who is totally abandoned in Armenia and is widely unknown to the public. Her works are not included in school books, nor have they been subjected to serious...
Violeta Balian | The Concubine

Violeta Balian | The Concubine

VIOLETA BALIÁN is an Argentine author and translator born in Buenos Aires of an Armenian father and a German mother. She studied History, Archaeology/Anthropology as well as Humanities at San Francisco State University (California) and spent many years in the United States. In 2012 she published her first novel, the...
Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

Souren Sarumyan | The Burner of Memories

The boy was carefully hiding Grandpa’s photo under the mattress with his head on the pillow, pretending asleep. On the weather-stained photo Grandpa was still young – he was standing by a big round table and sadly smiling. Grandpa’s fists were big, almost in size with the table. Even in...
Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY

Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY

At the beginning of Desolation Angels, Jack Kerouac is all alone, a fire lookout on a mountain peak in the Pacific Northwest surrounded by mountain stillness on all sides. A practicing if erratic Buddhist—“I’m the Buddhknown as the quitter,” he quipped once to his friend Gary Snyder—he has an epiphany:...
Hovhannes Grigoryan | Never die

Hovhannes Grigoryan | Never die

“Never die”, appealed my father to me in the deathbed.
Hasmik Hakobyan | Linguistic realization of modern armenian poetry

Hasmik Hakobyan | Linguistic realization of modern armenian poetry

The diversity of world orders, the thematic-structural elements,the variety of solution of primary problems make the modern poetry significant. Each type of poetry puts its world order and the language of thinking. The words become conventional signs of reality. So what is the poetic reality? What is the function of...
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Marineh Khachadour | Home

Marineh Khachadour | Home

(An excerpt from a memoir titled Lenin And Me told in a voice of a young girl growing up in Soviet Armenia in the ‘70s.) Act VIII So many of us, kids in the neighborhood, like to play in the dumpster behind the back doors and the fences of our homes. Pieces of concrete and...
Marineh Khachadour |  A Letter to My Mother

Marineh Khachadour | A Letter to My Mother

Dear Mother, Here I am in my beloved Armenia again, away from you. I know you resisted my return to the homeland mainly because you wanted me near you, so you would care for me and protect me like you always have. I have felt safe and secure in your belly, in your arms, in...
Mher Arshakyan | Woe to us…

Mher Arshakyan | Woe to us…

Our life changes every day. And woe to us, if we have no role in those changes. And again woe to us, if we have a role and the result is this. Woe to actors, who return home through a backdoor of life, where even the creak of the door is unchanged. Woe to journalists,...
Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

Marineh Khachadour | Children of War

My husband has purchased an old Zhiguli from a Yezidi young man for $400. It is white with golden velvet interior. “Fit for a lamb,” Charlie jokes as he straps Arpa, our almost two-year-old son, on the back seat. I sit next to him, so I may quickly reach for him if a need arises....
Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Mher Israelyan | Unimaginable Cheesies for Jeff Bronson

Dedicated to Brussels American School “The Earth is round and rotates not just around the sun, but also around its own axis,” I explain to five-year old Davit. “Round, like the khachapuri Mother bakes?” Davit’s eyes grow round. “Round like the sun, except that the sun does not move, it just sends its warmth to...
The Shepherd of the Mounts

The Shepherd of the Mounts

Mounts… high, emerald mounts… You, that are the land and throne of the gentle  breeze, sweet-scented flowers, sacred verdure and dews, of lively, cold springs, gloomy clouds, igneous lightnings, gush of waters… You, that are so close to the Almighty, the stars, the moon, to the celestial grants and mysteries, solemn and majestic mounts… Is...
Zareh Khrakhuni | The unowned field

Zareh Khrakhuni | The unowned field

It is waiting. On this side of the dam The thirsty field is waiting To fulfill its thirst. On the other side The reservoir is swollen With water. It is waiting. On this side of the dam The field is waiting To be immersed. On the other side A river bleeds the water away Like...
Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

Silva Zanoyan Merjanian | Under my skin

 Silva Zanoyan Merjanian is a widely published poet who grew up in Beirut, Lebanon. She moved to Geneva during the Lebanese civil war after personally experiencing the devastation of her beloved country. She later settled in California to raise her two sons with her husband. Her poetry reflects a little of what she took with...
David Poghosyan | Delusion

David Poghosyan | Delusion

The best and the most beautiful things in the world cannot be seen or even touched – they must be felt with heart.                                 Helen Keller Part 1 Revelation My father is a pilot. I’m very connected with him, he...