Nshan Abasyan | I am Telling You
I am Telling You Today you are more disgusting than ever. You are ignorant and braggart. You are naked and wretched. You hate obedience and lick your vassal’s feet. You’ve been deceived, fool! There’s litter in your plate. You’re not pure-blooded. You sneer your God. You envy your savior. You sell your wife,coward! Do not...
An interview with a famous Armenian writer Ara Baliozian
Ara Hakopian: Ara, your works have been translated into French, German, Greek, Spanish, Dutch, and Armenian. Several months ago your book “The Horrible Silence” was published in a Russian translation. This is the first time you have been translated and published in Russian. What are your expectations from the Russian edition and from the Russian-speaking...
Hrant Alexsanian | Selected poems
Don’t get angry Winds can come into your veins, into your bedroom, the secret dwelling of your agitations,- they have private reckonings with you and your last will and testament, God knows only what kind of wind gave birth to you.- The winds beat you down when you’re half asleep. A hand can implicate you...
Lilit Karapetyan | Composition 33
I love that man, the one sitting sadly at the crucifix, with his legs crossed. He carried the high-quality oak cross up to the mountain where Adam’s head was buried, the emblem of sin. “He is a miracle man,” said his twelve friends after the subsequent successful deal. They were with us everywhere. Hardly had...
Henrik Edoyan | Three days without the Lord
THE RUINS OF ACROPOLIS Time passes over me now like a blind bird leaving a feather with which I write on the gaping call of my memory the names of men things cities’ This is the image of a fina; assurance, these are the ruins of Acropolis among which entangles the stare of a casual...
David Muradyan | The cold city,warm seas
The short-size girl was standing on a small chair and she was taking the toys off the Christmas tree, trying not to drop them. The tree needles were falling down. The old woman was picking the faded cotton pieces up and putting them into a bucket. “Is your Christmas tree standing yet?” asked Parandzem. “Yes,...
Vardan Hakobyan | On the other side of horizon
ON THE OTHER SIDE OF HORIZON The words told by silence are deeper than when you try to speak: the sadness, the flower and the sky always whisper in my ear. No one speaks while kissing: no matter how far are the stars, they’re mine. No one speaks while creating: the mind is freedom....
Arqmenik Nikoghosyan | The main tendencies of the development of modern Armenian poetry
1. Nowadays it seems to be possible to divide the Armenian poetry of the independence period into different parts. The poetry of 1990s is a complete entity in all respects and can be analysed as a separate phase. Literary nonstop process seems to form the next phase and some skids and circulation are determined by...
Recent Comments