i search for your skull
13 Saturday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Poetry, Translation
13 Saturday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Poetry, Translation
11 Thursday Apr 2013
Երբ մենք համբուրել, քայքայում ավերում.
Այրում վիշապաճանճում, իմ բերանին.
When we kiss, havoc.
A dragonfly burning in my mouth.
10 Wednesday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Poetry, Translation
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Աստվածուհին սիրո եւ վերջին սերը.
Աստղիկ, ես մենակ եմ.
Ուղարկիր ինձ իմ ցանկություն.
Բեր ինձ ցանկամոլություն.
Սապփո, որ Աֆրոդիտեի դուստրը.
Ես ուզում եմ ձեզ հիմա, իմ մուգ մայրը.
.
Goddess of love and last love.
Astghik, I‘m alone.
Send me my wish.
Bring me my desire.
Sappho was Aphrodite’s daughter.
I need you now, my dark mother.
.
note:
Astghik, besides being a popular Armenian girl’s name, is one of the old gods that lived in the Caucasus mountains before Armenia became the first Christian nation in the world. She was, and is, a love goddess, the protector of young girls and the guardian of fresh water. The Greek poet Sappho wrote a hymn to Aphrodite. This is my hymn for Astghik.
And once again I must apologize for my poor skills in Armenian. I am slowly learning the grammar, but it is a slow process when you are teaching yourself. One day I hope to be able to write the poems I dream about writing in Armenian, but until then I will keep on trying.
09 Tuesday Apr 2013
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[from OneArmenia]
Elder #barevolution supporter at Freedom Square on inauguration day #armenia #armenianactivism #raffihovannisian #serzhsarksyan #opera #elections #protest #opposition
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Armenia, photograph
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09 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Erotic, Poetry, Translation
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Armenian, Pablo Neruda, poem, Sappho, translation, Walt Whitman
Ուիթմեն. Սապփո. Ներուդա.
Տաղ. Հնչեակ. Վիպերգ.
Ես գրում եմ իմ բանաստեղծությունները վրա ձեր ծլիկ.
Whitman. Sappho. Neruda.
Ode. Sonnet. Ballad.
I write my poems on your clit.
* * *
Notes:
As far as I know these are the correct spellings in Armenian of these poets’ names. Պաբլո Ներուդա (Pablo Neruda), Ուոլթ Ուիթմեն (Walt Whitman) and Սապփո (Sappho).
Writing, as they say, is a gamble. We put our art out for the world to see, and then hope the reader enjoys it enough to write back. Some people find their audience right away and some never do. I have no idea where the audience for this poem is, but I am willing to take the chance that once I send it out into the void that is the Internet it will, slowly, find its way to the one who it’s intended for. And who knows? That person might even help me with my grammar, since my ability to write in Armenian is շատ վատ (very bad). Cheers!
07 Sunday Apr 2013
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Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Armenia, Illustration and art
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07 Sunday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Illustration and art
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Everyone talks about Mt. Ararat as a glorious mountain because it’s out of touch, but Aragats is the mountain I love. It was where I went to wander one dark, dark December night until the battle-fey found me. I was 26 and wanted to fade away in the blizzard that shut the mountains down and I decided to walk to Yerevan from Gyumri because I couldn’t live with the weight of having the children I tried to take care of in the orphanage die.
03 Wednesday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia
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02 Tuesday Apr 2013
I am working on an article about the Armenian painter Mariam Aslamazyan, from Gyumri. I use to live near her studio on Abovian street. She is amazingly talented, working in oils and ceramics. I’ll post the entire article when I’m done, though it is a bit slow since there is hardly anything written about her in English and it takes forever to get the Russian magazine articles translated. Cheers!
Posted by babylon crashing | Filed under Armenia, Illustration and art
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02 Tuesday Apr 2013
Posted in Armenia, Illustration and art
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Ah, this photo brings back so many memories of having to stand the entire 4-5 hours it would take to get from Yerevan to Gyumri. It wasn’t that I didn’t arrive early for a seat but that there would always be some 89 year-old tatik who was obviously going to be forced to stand the entire ride. At least back in the 1990s there was a lot of lip-service paid to how important the elderly was but I never saw in the two years I was there anyone ever doing so much as give up their seat for their own grandmother. My mama-jan didn’t raise no rude boy so I spent a lot of time standing. Such is life.
from OneArmenia.