Hasmik Simonyan | 2 epistles to my daughter
2 EPISTLES TO MY DAUGHTER 1. my bloodless daughter frolicking in my capillaries all along stop playing stop drying up so pompously either when i water you to grow close your face with the rain when i comb your hair when i make up your eyes and lips
Ashot Gabrielyan | The distance
The distance From the Reven’s Rock to my birth Is the navel string Connecting the half-embryo Where the birth and death don’t meet To make me live… My homeland is hold within the world’s mirror Like the hypocrite smile of the moon when she smiles at the sun; There is a ruin beyond the cross,...
Eduard Harents | Selected poems
Van Gogh was relieved of his ear, because he didn’t need it: he had already heard Genius. Al-Ma’arri actually saw as much, that no longer eyes were so important. Charents had no grave, because he is not dead yet.
An Interview with Sailor and Writer Christine Bukruian
Over the past two-and-a-half decades, Christine Bukruian has tried her hand at a fair deal of occupations, including dance instructor, natural soap business owner, and spring water company co-owner, until embracing her lifelong dream of writing and sailing. Her first novel, Gypsy Spirit: What My Boat Taught Me about Love and Life, chronicles the two years...
The Writer as Benefactor
Dr. Diana Hambardzumyan is best known in Armenian circles for her translations of Kurt Vonnegut and William Faulkner. The author of a number of short stories and novels, Hambardzumyan is a member of the Writer’s Union of Armenia. She currently works as a professor of English at the Yerevan State Linguistics University named after Valeri...
Vrezh Israelyan | For Granny Aghavni
Many years ago the Armenian author, Avetiq Isahakian, seized the saying, ‘Why don’t you get pulled down to the complete ruin, o you world?’ from the folk’s mouth and delivered it to Granny Aghavni. She was teaching the Armenian language to the village elementary schoolchildren at the time. And her teacher’s biography began and finished...
Elda Grin | Hands
When I was just married my mother-in-law wondered and complained all the time: “Your hands are so gentle and small!” She even showed the gloves I had been wearing before my marriage to our entire neighborhood. “Look at these gloves! They’re like a doll’s. How will these hands work?” The neighbor women were examining the...
Khoren Gasparyan | A scar upon the left profile (Borges and I)
A scar upon the left profile of man can also be upon the right profile. Jorge Luis Borges The epigraph that I borrowed from Borges is not taken from his compositions. He said those words in a dream. In my dream. Said it to me. I don’t remember details. The dream was in 2002, I...
Ashot Gabrielyan | Poems
The distance From the Reven’s Rock[1] to my birth Is the navel string Connecting the half-embryo Where the birth and death don’t meet To make me live… My homeland is hold within the world’s mirror Like the hypocrite smile of the moon when she smiles at the sun; There is a ruin beyond the cross,...
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