Naira Hambardzumyan

I wake up, call the sun, from my voice the laughter wakes up and spreads on the horizons.
The myth of the day wakes up with me, nostalgia takes wings, and the miracle and a pain live side by side, the myth becomes life, life- poetry ...
My works have been published in Armenian and foreign newspapers, magazines and websites, translated into different languages.
Along with poems I also write children's stories, engaged in scientific activities. In 2003 I complited my PHD.
2001- “Reflections in mid fall” collection of poems was published
2003 - “Lyric poetry of Maro Markarian” monograph.
2004 - “Kanach karetner” a collection of poems.
2008 - “Kanachuke” children's book.
2008 - “I am a word” collection of poems.
2009 - “Speak, you have three minutes" a collection of translations (Julio Kortasar).
In 2010 - “Flight in a dead land” a collection of translations (Alfonsina Storni).
In 2010 - “Red windmills” a collection of children's fairy tales.

The soul belongs to unreal impulses. The canoes of wisdom, where we swing, lead us to the irrational. Everything in life proceeds by predetermined spirit, which is never voiced out.
All the buildings of the world are subject to destruction, but the human soul’s creation never.

When they love you, it's nice,and when you love, you become rich, and the whole world belongs to you.
We all love, but everyone in his own way.
Sometimes it is needed to be able to filter, purify and clean memories and restore the space under new light, otherwise the external world would limit itself only by the surface of the body, by the measure of their own nose length, and the inner will remain immune towards any feeling.
People dream of great loves, knights and fairies, while we need so little real and tangible, OURS ...

Our life, from birth to death is the alchemy, a unique digging that leads us to constantly crystallization. You search, you seek, detect the precious that helps to be harmonized, to make your life valuable.
P.S. Life becomes a unique test tube, through which we pass from beginning to end, from birth to death by crystallizing, purifying, and clearing.

Human being
... A man shall not love you or understand. And being surrounded by friends and enemies, we are still alone forever, forever alone is our process, but this is also the way, because there is nothing above human life- in the time limited domain. First of all human life. And why not, it is possible to win the reality, when we win ourselves, in the way to the search of eternal human.

The worst of loss is death. There is nothing beyond that. In that case you can’t change anything. Only then you put down all arms.
The Creator sometimes takes the life of one of our friends in order to prove our impotence. You should feel the termination, to live by every second, love life. Here is human great love towards the world, that is necessary for life and creative activity.

I love
I love the land, water, sun, I love the morning, the moment of auroral that is yours only, when there is no one that trouble you ... a sacred moment… when the world is sleeping, when the silence and you ... when one by one get up all people, when from the windows fleshes are twinkling to welcome the sunrise... ... some still continue the unfinished works of the day before, and some start new works…
Morning is the beginning of everything ...

The material of poetry is inexhaustible, people wrote, write, will write. There is a universal mystery of existence and creation that is called life, and is put in human ground of earthy and rational existence. Poetry out of poetry ...
here is mystery of creation, mystery of time in the time, the greatest untold secrets of mankind.

Art should not be born out of utility problems, that is a spiritual lesson, sincere happy moment, victory of truth. As the strength of beauty is underlined, the same emphasize should have the ugly. Here is the call of the artist, the creative mind: to penetrate into depth of the objects and events, to see the spirit, that leads to recognition…

There is a man - there is a sense, there is a meaning for living, there are many conventionalities that surround him.
No man - there is nothing, life was a myth, dream, there is only the creation, good and bad deeds.
Time is the same for everyone, the same hours, same minutes and seconds, you just need to be able to take more from life, the good and the nice. The fight for existence is for everyone - air, water, soil, plant, person, animal, bird, whatever that is the organic world in whole...

Looking at life creates visual relativity, which is essential tendency to metaphysical perception. Public nature of the poetry serves for different purposes, although its function is essentially in the range of the language development.
Life and death are inseparable, and the life is only possible so that ultimately subject us to the divine beginning, bringing to death, and therefore to God. The style itself should be expression of the content.

The burs must be there unconditionally in order to assess our happy moments of traveling ... Sometimes for understanding life well I eat completely incompatible meals, namely radishes with sault and drink sweet tea. The incompatibility of these tastes makes me to win sudden situation - crisis that is psychological pressure to me.
... There are no spiritually strong men, there are only situation supervisors. Try to spice with sault the potato from the bars of the fork on the potato: such layers recall also the simple and complex sides of the life.

* * *

And I will sleep one day
(like an old pre man)
Without the blanket.
And the wind will flap the foliage of the pines,
And the angels will hang from the night with bet eyes far away
In the time of their declension:
And again things will slumber in peace
Until morning
And the process again
Will mix signs to the life.
And there will be no one
To stop my fall,
In the time of declension.


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