Eduard Harents

(Armenia)

***

In all my places of absence

I sow my reticence

from you…

Yet who punctuated

among the scents of my word?

Absolute scars,

inside my forehead of a vigil dream…

Whenever you wish to translate

my bloods,

collect Job’s stones

from my poems…

Those are secret cells

of your Son’s

round-scripted sorrow…

                                  Translated from Armenian by Anna Talalyan

Yearning

The shadow of color
is scaling
the scars of day;
walking the serenity
of an encountered dream…

The flower is the secret
of pain;
an introspective smile.
The scion names the sin.

Beyond personal bandages
of prayer,
the self-denial of a tree
is as much bright
as warm are the hands
of night.

I am freezing… your name.

                                  Translated from Armenian by Harout Vartanian

 ***

After so much pious,
loveless nights,
I have no idea from which
muscle of time,
but storms are ringing from myself
apparently sweeping away all my
morns, which
remained punched like that
up till now
like the shoes
of a gold medalist student…

Interesting:
that much rich, so sonorous,
to which gates
will my evening – one day –
tinkle?

                                  Translated from Armenian by Harout Vartanian

Love

Trough the 30 dawns of my life,

from flower to flower,

leaving all my sins aside,

by the time I arrived,

she had already left,

leaving the Supper table behind…

And I

laughed the words

inwards until yesterday

like

psychotropic fish…

It turned out 33 was too many…

                                  Translated from Armenian by Anna Talalyan

Although 

The day is wet like a door,

by which

from me I enter into you –

my back turned against the noise,

as if when leaving the church.

The bowls of hope,- drunk by me –

stumble behind my flower,

and mote by mote

my bright back bows down

on the impersonal suffixes of your threshold…

And you, suddenly…

not looking, you see me,

that I collapse on you

and you have no which were

to surround my back…

Your arms have remained in the church –

to pray

with the subjunctive of hugging me…

                                      Translated from Armenian by Herminée Arshakyan

**

Eduard Harents graduated from Yerevan State University, the faculty of Oriental Studies, and Cairo University’s Centre of Arabic Language and Culture. He is an author of 13 poetry collections, and has been published in a large number of both Armenian and foreign periodicals and anthologies.

Eduard Harents is the most translated Armenian poet of all time, with his work being translated into more than 70 languages. In 2007, 2009, 2011 and 2013, he was awarded in the Best Poetical Series and Best Translation nominations, and 2013, the young poets first prize for the book “Lethargic Vigilance”. Awards also include: The International literary prize “Pjeter Bogdani” for poetry 2015 (Kosovo), the International Prize “Dardanica” 2019 (Belgium), and the Panorama International Literature Award 2020 (India-Italy), and the International Award «Best Poet, Writer and Peace worker of the year 2022» from Ichchashakti Sahitto Paribar, and the International Award 2022 «Best Poet, Writer, Literary and Humanitarian Peace activists of the Year» from Bikash Sahitya Parishod.