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Tatev Chakhian | One Bed, Two Wars
Poetry

Tatev Chakhian | One Bed, Two Wars

by Granish on Apr 14, 2025 • No Comments
 ONE BED, TWO WARS Here, our bodies crumble in a foreign land, beneath a rumbling sky of a New Year’s Eve that belongs to others. We share a single bed and two wars. He fears that dying might last longer than living. I reassure him: once you get used to...
Anna Davtyan | Language through Lessons
Akrat / Essay

Anna Davtyan | Language through Lessons

by Granish on Feb 22, 2025 • No Comments
The teacher is always the person who needs to be forgiven for temporariness. I thought of this when I was already a teacher. When I was teaching my young students not a specific profession but was explaining the state of things. In a word there is the state of things,...
Vahan Teryan | She smiled at me
Poetry

Vahan Teryan | She smiled at me

by Granish on Feb 9, 2023 • No Comments
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”
Criticism

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

by Granish on Mar 12, 2022 • No Comments
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
Poetry

Naira Hambardzumyan | Poetry for the chosen ones

by Granish on Apr 4, 2021 • No Comments
  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
Short story

Hrant Matevosyan | The Trees

by Granish on Sep 8, 2020 • No Comments
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
Poetry

Hovhannes Tumanyan | The Reading of the Universe

by Granish on Jun 27, 2020 • No Comments
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
Short story

Artyom Grigoryan | Ups and downs

by Granish on Jun 22, 2020 • No Comments
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
Poetry

Kostandin Yerznkatsi | Others malign me of envy

by Granish on Jun 22, 2020 • No Comments
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...
Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY
Short story

Aram Saroyan | NOTES AT SEVENTY

by Granish on Dec 25, 2013 • 9 Comments
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
Poetry

Hovhannes Grigoryan | Never die

by Granish on Aug 23, 2013 • No Comments
“Never die”, appealed my father to me in the deathbed.
Latest entries
AVAG YEPREMYAN | Truly I Say
Poetry

AVAG YEPREMYAN | Truly I Say

by Granish on Jan 22, 2014 • No Comments
Truly I Say Where we left each other, Our children Will come and go From our disease they will suffer, I know otherwise— upon our tombs, out of our dust roses will grow.   Dead Points As an unuttered word, the Whole is here, indeed, the Ruins of Past-Present- Future—in the Same Pre-Seed. Eternal like...
Alis Hovhannisyan | Globalization
Short story

Alis Hovhannisyan | Globalization

by Granish on Jan 17, 2014 • No Comments
It is not hard to guess that in every corner of the world created by our Lord God, even in the desert or the bottom of the ocean, the creatures that He created are immeasurably similar in the way they act. In one moment, an ant, upon discovering the body of a fellow ant, circles...
Hrach Saribekyan | The Sun of Twins
Novel

Hrach Saribekyan | The Sun of Twins

by Granish on Jan 16, 2014 • No Comments
Everything was so mute and motionless that it seemed as if daytime was nighttime when the sun shines in the sky. The day would reach the trees and hesitate as under the trees there was untimely night. The sun had cast the shadows of the leaves on the walls of houses. The monotonous creak of...
LEVON KHECHOYAN | The Third Son
Short story

LEVON KHECHOYAN | The Third Son

by Granish on Jan 11, 2014 • No Comments
It rained two days ago; the morning sun erupted with a blinding flash of light. The intolerable light quickly dried the damp soil. Our neighbor Nersik was passed out drunk. No matter how much they called him, he didn’t get up. So we took his tractor out of his yard and left without him to...
TIGRAN PASKEVICHYAN | The seventh day
Poetry

TIGRAN PASKEVICHYAN | The seventh day

by Granish on Jan 8, 2014 • No Comments
HANGOVER Lend me a hand, my dears and nears, I have run out of my wine in the cup of my three and thirty years. I get sober from the morning bolls; lend me a hand. Does the wind blow late, or Won’t your hand find me anymore? I depart unhurriedly in a slow pace,...
Petros Durian | Little lake
Poetry

Petros Durian | Little lake

by Granish on Jan 4, 2014 • No Comments
  LITTLE LAKE WHY dost thou lie in hushed surprise, Thou little lonely mere ? Did some fair woman wistfully Gaze in thy mirror clear? Or are thy waters calm and still Admiring the blue sky, Where shining cloudlets, like thy foam, Are drifting softly by ? Sad little lake, let us be friends! I...
The new literary project of Granish
Literary market

The new literary project of Granish

by Granish on Dec 25, 2013 • 1 Comment
Dear English speaking readers, we are glad to represent you the newly launched online project of Granish Club: Granish.com. English translations of modern and classical Armenian literature and works of Armenian writers in foreign languages as well as literary research analysis, reviews on newly published books and other news in the field of literature will...
Chris Bohjalian | In a Turkish town that had 10,000 Armenians, now there is only one
Essay

Chris Bohjalian | In a Turkish town that had 10,000 Armenians, now there is only one

by Granish on Dec 25, 2013 • No Comments
A woman I met last month in southeastern Turkey is going to die, probably sometime soon. Asiya’s death will not be covered by any news service, and for all but a few people in her small village of Chunkush, she will not be missed. Even the relatives who love her will probably think to themselves,...
Slavik Chiloayn | Selected poems
Poetry

Slavik Chiloayn | Selected poems

by Granish on Oct 24, 2013 • No Comments
DOGS Dogs waifs, kicked out of doors and other animals we are your walking memories on a spinning parchment.   THE SONG OF NAMES In the 20th century or any century there are two types of names— proper and common. The proper names are those that turn into a promontory, a city, a street, a...

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