WRITE A POEM
If your country is rocky and droughty
write a poem to live softly.
Our president who, to my mind, is philologist
writes poems of loneliness and sadness in the back of contracts
and so he writes of dismissal in the minutes of despair…
And the Opposition calls rhymed names,
and we shout with a rhythm.
The Minister of Defense dedicates songs to the war
so that the heart of unlucky neighbor could soften
and the cannonball could fall with no noise.
The Central Bank Chairman reads verlibr about Crisis,
and the journalist writes quatrain about the last accidents
and particularly of self-murderers spontaneously
those leave poems in the pocket.
Squatters in the open sky dedicate acrostic to the chill and famine…
When life is too difficult
divide
it
into
lines
to make it easy to live.
And if you don’t know how to speak of genocide especially,
of motherland and enemy
write a poem immediately
so that the textbook of History could be understood easily.
Probably there is no need to say
that your country is rocky and alumina
bury dead people with a poem
so that they could rest in peace.
SOVIET TOAST
Hey Hitler,
now when the noise has hushed
when I –the former citizen of the Soviet country
I’m mature, healthy, fit for war and unnecessary on peaceful days,
now when I sit on Odeonplatz pavement calm,
I invite you to drink a glass of beer and gossip
about everything but war.
On Marienplatz I saw a lad who hid himself from others
and a woman, who suddenly flashed
and children who ran hanging their heads,
and lovers escaping their eyes from each other,
and a whole nation… that is extremely ashamed
aithout almost bringing in mind the reason.
And I remembered the days in Moscow
how I watched people who had no reason to be ashamed
while sitting in the rocking chair of a cheap café.
Hitler, I am extremely afraid of people, who have no reason to be ashamed,
heroes with gleaming eyes,
shiny teeth,
shiny medal,
flee quickly from winners,
from their jubilee,
from their happiness,
Hitler, they only remember the last shot
and do nothing almost a whole life.
They make jokes about war
there is an alarm in their giggles –
winners who forget
winners who get old
winners who are exhausted with ennui.
Hitler, respire calmly –
You need to be defeated in order to continue
and a little sin in order to live.
Hitler, now I put aside my textbooks
I am ashamed instead of all winners.
I invite you to drink beer.
STOP! LET ME SLEEP
Dear Messiah
postpone your arrival for a day
because tomorrow is Sunday
and I must sleep
Dear God
calm volcanoes
earthquakes
floods
and other noisy games
and put off your plans of Judgment Day for a day
Mr. Mayor
stop constructions
forbid the traffic
prescribe silence
for my sake
Let Hamas not throw bombs
and Aliev not shoot at Artsakh at least tomorrow
and dear Al Qaida
end your arab-israelian conflict
and major and minor powers
conclude a truce tonight
because tomorrow is Sunday
and I must sleep
Please close Tokyo Stock Exchange
and put a huge stone in Baku-Jeihan pipeline
lock the BMW plant from outside
Dear TVs
announce a day of checking procedures
and let Bollywood only shoot dreams tonight
Dear revolutionists
anti-revolutionists
lefts, rights and neutrals,
leave the square and keep
ideological silence
Dear believers
love your neighbor at least today
when I’ve come and asked you
to keep silence
And for a day
delete my name from the list of people
the list of pious people
the list of stray dogs
the list of Noah
the list of past and future criminals
the list of poets
the list of villains
of political prisoners
of volunteers
of will-less
of useless
of lovers
of strugglers
of mortals
because tomorrow is Sunday
and I must sleep
Finally
send a black paper to my family
black as a forgotten dream
and put me absent from the Earth
because it is Saturday
midnight
I’m standing on the edge of the day
and throw myself down
Good night!
Translated by Tatev Chakhchakhyan
STREET ART
translate the soul
write on a door
in a public bathroom
in the underground
translate the soul
create a street art
write on a poster
take it to a rally
translate the soul
kick it away
***
we think it’s important
we moan
we groan
we bark
walk by and hit with a stone
you bark
you groan
you moan
***
I walk down a street and treat the dog like a human
I said: hello
the dog down the street thinks: who is this?
and just walks its way
***
On a crossroad Saryan-Pushkin
I lost my phone and my smile
a policeman and a dog walked by
the policeman found the phone
the dog smiled silently
***
sidewalk-ditch-I fall
sidewalk-ditch-I jump
sidewalk-ditch-sidewalk
***
the buzz of the big, very big countries
the fuss of the big, very big humans
the rattle of the battle
the blast and the shatter
the whining of the dead
the hiss of the big, very big airport the
fizz of the big, very big factory
the hum of the long highway
the purr of wide sidewalks
the snore of the 7 billion
and I can’t hear the buzz of the fly on my nose
***
I’m going for a revolution, coming back home
I’m going for a revolution, coming back home
I’m going for a revolution, coming back home
I’m going, the revolution is coming home
***
I went through my parents
I went through my university
I went through garbage
I went through some gangs
I went through a rally
I went through my lover
I went through a mirror
I merely went through
Translated by Anush Babajanyan
