VIP Armenia Community - View Single Post

VIP Forums Group · 24 Sep 14, 16:04

By Avediq Isahakian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
(Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here)

And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain,

Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign.

And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling,

At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing!

Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings;

Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings.

Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights,

Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites.

Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound –

“This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound;

“And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure,

And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure?

“Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance;

Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains.

“No one has heard its beginning, nor shall anyone ever hear its end, and

Each refrain lives endless centuries, each refrain knows no beginning, nor an end!

“But for each newborn, this splendid legend is narrated all over again,

It restarts and comes to an end with the lives of each and all men.

“Life is but a dream, the world a mere tale, nations, generations – caravan in motion,

Which in legend, along with live dreams, rushes unseen towards perdition.

“Deaf and dumb people, bereft of dreams, without hearing this triumphant tale,

You snatch morsels from each other’s throats, turning this world into a horrendous hell!

“Yoke and whip, a web with no exit, woven by a disordered spider, constitute your laws,

With the venom of which you poison the nightingale’s song, the reverie of the rose.

“Pitiful people! Your mean hearts shall turn to dust, along with your malevolent actions,

And the hand of time, indifferent, shall wipe and erase your depraved intimations.

“And the blowhard wind shall smash your bones on rocks and stones, forevermore,

You, ever unable to appreciate this enchanting dream, this golden folklore.”

Bejeweled caravans of stars wandered along boundless heavenly highways,

And the endless firmament pealed with the ever ablaze, regal harmonium of the skies.

The entire creation was filled with an endless, magical performance of heavenly throngs,

Lost in reveries, with all his soul he listened, uplifted, to the sublime songs.

“March on, caravan, weaving your mellow murmurs with the heaven’s luminous hum overhead,

Cast my woes to the winds, walk into the loving lap of nature, and don’t turn your head!

“Take me to a light-garbed, lonely alien shore, on distant, remote, ever-detached shorelines,

Holy loneliness, thou, my oasis, thou, ever-flowing source of invigorating aspirations.

“Skies of silence, converse with me in the language of your stars, and soothe my soul,

Salve my soul, injured by the world – my man-mauled, weary, wounded soul.

“Inside me burns an insatiable yearning, a compassionate heart, forever crying,

And in my soul, there is a resplendent dream, and holy tears, and love everlasting.

“My spirit is free, I can’t ever tolerate over me the rule and decree of any power,

No law, no fate or boundary – whether evil or benign – no judgment and decree, ever.

“There can be no hegemony whatsoever over my head, not a single privilege,

And all that is outside my will or disposition is penitentiary, slavery, and bondage.

“I want to be totally unchained, debt-free, atheistic, anarchistic, unrestricted;

My soul yearns only and only for great freedom, boundless, unlimited.”

And the caravan mended forward, while above it shimmered all ignited

Like jewels, those ever glittering eyes – the stars with youthful smiles, untethered.

And the twinkling sparks of the golden stars summoned him affectionately,

Flooding his spirit with a thousand crystal chimes’ sublime harmony.

The road shimmered with the enchanted glows of the sapphire distance

And the caravan kept pace, swaying to and fro, headed to that sapphire expanse…

End of the Third Surah

The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

By Avediq Isahakian Translated by Tatul Sonentz (Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here) And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain, Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign. And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling, At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing! Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings; Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings. Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights, Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites. Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound – “This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound; “And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure, And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure? “Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance; Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains. “No one has heard its [...]

The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

By Avediq Isahakian Translated by Tatul Sonentz (Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here) And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain, Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign. And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling, At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing! Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings; Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings. Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights, Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites. Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound – “This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound; “And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure, And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure? “Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance; Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains. “No one has heard its [...]

The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly.

[img][/img]
More...

24 Sep 14, 16:04	#1 (permalink)
VIP Forums Group Top VIP VIP Ultra Club Join Date: Jan 1970 Posts: 12,055 Rep Power: 67	Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah By Avediq Isahakian Translated by Tatul Sonentz (Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here) And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain, Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign. And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling, At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing! Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings; Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings. Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights, Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites. Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound – “This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound; “And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure, And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure? “Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance; Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains. “No one has heard its beginning, nor shall anyone ever hear its end, and Each refrain lives endless centuries, each refrain knows no beginning, nor an end! “But for each newborn, this splendid legend is narrated all over again, It restarts and comes to an end with the lives of each and all men. “Life is but a dream, the world a mere tale, nations, generations – caravan in motion, Which in legend, along with live dreams, rushes unseen towards perdition. “Deaf and dumb people, bereft of dreams, without hearing this triumphant tale, You snatch morsels from each other’s throats, turning this world into a horrendous hell! “Yoke and whip, a web with no exit, woven by a disordered spider, constitute your laws, With the venom of which you poison the nightingale’s song, the reverie of the rose. “Pitiful people! Your mean hearts shall turn to dust, along with your malevolent actions, And the hand of time, indifferent, shall wipe and erase your depraved intimations. “And the blowhard wind shall smash your bones on rocks and stones, forevermore, You, ever unable to appreciate this enchanting dream, this golden folklore.” Bejeweled caravans of stars wandered along boundless heavenly highways, And the endless firmament pealed with the ever ablaze, regal harmonium of the skies. The entire creation was filled with an endless, magical performance of heavenly throngs, Lost in reveries, with all his soul he listened, uplifted, to the sublime songs. “March on, caravan, weaving your mellow murmurs with the heaven’s luminous hum overhead, Cast my woes to the winds, walk into the loving lap of nature, and don’t turn your head! “Take me to a light-garbed, lonely alien shore, on distant, remote, ever-detached shorelines, Holy loneliness, thou, my oasis, thou, ever-flowing source of invigorating aspirations. “Skies of silence, converse with me in the language of your stars, and soothe my soul, Salve my soul, injured by the world – my man-mauled, weary, wounded soul. “Inside me burns an insatiable yearning, a compassionate heart, forever crying, And in my soul, there is a resplendent dream, and holy tears, and love everlasting. “My spirit is free, I can’t ever tolerate over me the rule and decree of any power, No law, no fate or boundary – whether evil or benign – no judgment and decree, ever. “There can be no hegemony whatsoever over my head, not a single privilege, And all that is outside my will or disposition is penitentiary, slavery, and bondage. “I want to be totally unchained, debt-free, atheistic, anarchistic, unrestricted; My soul yearns only and only for great freedom, boundless, unlimited.” And the caravan mended forward, while above it shimmered all ignited Like jewels, those ever glittering eyes – the stars with youthful smiles, untethered. And the twinkling sparks of the golden stars summoned him affectionately, Flooding his spirit with a thousand crystal chimes’ sublime harmony. The road shimmered with the enchanted glows of the sapphire distance And the caravan kept pace, swaying to and fro, headed to that sapphire expanse… *End of the Third Surah* The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly. By Avediq Isahakian Translated by Tatul Sonentz (Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here) And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain, Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign. And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling, At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing! Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings; Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings. Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights, Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites. Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound – “This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound; “And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure, And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure? “Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance; Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains. “No one has heard its [...] The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly. By Avediq Isahakian Translated by Tatul Sonentz (Note: read the first surah»here, and the second surah here) And Abu Lala’s caravan, gurgling softly like a fountain, Advanced, slow and at ease, beneath the moon’s retiring reign. And the moon, like the chest of a young pixie of paradise, spry, dazzling, At times modest, hid behind clouds, then came out bright, blazing! Sweet-smelling flowers were asleep, among diamonds, lavish trimmings; Rainbow-shaped birds fussed over each other with tender cooings. Winds with violet-scented breath, whispered tales of a thousand and one nights, Along the road, palm trees and poplars in deep, sweet sleep, swayed like kites. Listening to the chatter of the wind, Abu-Mahari spoke without making a sound – “This world could be a crafted miracle, a tall tale with no beginning or end, bright, profound; “And who has woven this majestic saga, studded with stars and miracles that endure, And who is telling it in numerous styles, tireless and dauntless, with such charming allure? “Nations have come, nations have gone, and never understood its significance; Poets have grasped a bit of it, and keep stammering its timeless refrains. “No one has heard its [...] The post Abu Lala Mahari: Third Surah appeared first on Armenian Weekly. [img][/img] More...