Naira Hambardzumyan


Probably yesterday was Thursday
Probably you were listening to Wagner again
that wet and wistful mystery «Parsifal"
streaming from mysterious triangle of my fingers,
Probably you were drinking coffee
Probably you were smoking.

(I'm closing my ears in order not to
be tempt from familiar words again).

Final forms of the world
(final forms just do not exist)
continue to uncover themselves,
Uncover eternity.

If you do not live
Than the horror of death is undue,
Look at the world like
you are looking to the death of your soul,
I’m hugging my knees strongly
and I understand :
''Life Studies'' of Lowell
Will not save me,
That Yerevan with its one thousand eighty hundred years
In it’s ancient history
One thousand eighty hundred times fur sure
Saw one thousand eighty hundred
Unburied spikes of wheat
And in the honey like eyes of sky
Saw me nude in front of mirror,
One thousand eighty hundred times for sure
And days that are memories of God
Come back to us
through exhausted time.

* * *

А однажды я просто засну
(подобно доисторическому человеку),
Просто так,
Ничем не накрывшись.
И ветер запоет в верхушках сосен,
И вдали,
Перед самым своим паденьем,
Ангелы ухватятся
За подол слепорожденной ночи.
И опять до утра
Предметы спокойно задремлют
И Движение снова
Смешает с жизнью свои приметы.
И никто не придет,
Чтоб остановить мое паденье
И не дать мне разбиться.


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