Poems by Eduard Harents

Poems by Eduard Harents

Life lives me with all my details,
and I turn around it
as a color of another brush.
My canvases have holes in them
as a Japanese coin,
through which one by one
all my loves free themselves
from me, always outwards
their parting
ringing about my wonderful loss…
And my claps
weigh heavier than I do.
So I have collected them
in my hand
as smashed paper money
and keep them
for the last – the death
to revamp its masks,
that will be hole one day,
as my canvases are.
And I’ll ring out forever,
and life will go on to live me
with all my details…

(Translated from Armenian by Vanuhi Alabekyan)

My name is a stone in God’s dream, with ornamental carvings of askew mirrors. Through the rib bones of light my father’s cataract is tinkling on my tongue.

(Translated from Armenian by Harout Vartanian)

I am plucking now
the eyelashes of silence one by one
to mend my prayer,
which has been torn by nuances of word…
Now the nuance is more than the voice…
And now I enter
the church of Hope barefooted,
so that my steps will not paint voices on my fortune.
How many footprints have been split apart by whispers…
While my footprint
is my prayer of love,
which never ends,
as it never colors itself in words…
And now
the main color is the truth,
that love is the poem of the feeling…
That muses don’t turn into women…

(Translated from Armenian by Herminée Arshakyan)

The color of ink is the fear of ecstasy
with cold landscape of the night,
from its back it was appeared a sudden hand
between innocence and betrayal․

Whose papers the fingerprints are put on?
with shining after twelve.

The air trembles
like stacked night suit of doubt.

We have to wait
the nudity of dawn…

Cross yourself, Bird !

(Translated from Armenian by Ani Hakobyan)