Dead Poets’ Society

The Armenian Poetry Project’s producer and director Lola Koundakjian likes to celebrate the Project’s anniversaries, as she put it, “quietly, reading poetry”.

This year, with the help of the Armenian Institute and the International Armenian Literary Alliance, we celebrated APP’s 15th anniversary with a reading of some of the most beautiful poems on APP’s website, which were collected in a beautiful brochure, illlustrated by Lola’s own watercolours.

Read the poems below or watch the whole event on our youtube channel.

20 Beloved Poems From The Vault To Poets Everywhere

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Or watch the event here:

Frik – Protest | Գանգատ

Frik (c. 1230 - c. 1310) was a prominent medieval Armenian poet. The little we know about his life has reached us through indirect allusions in his poetry. He was born into a well-to-do family but became bankrupt through injudicious business partnerships with people who supplied the invading Mongol army with provisions. Love and joy pervaded his early poetry, but after his reversal of fortune his poetry tackled social issues and inequalities, sometimes calling God to account. Many people have tried – all unconvincingly - to explain this poet’s unusual name or the names of his father (Tagvosh) and paternal uncle (Dodona). In the early 13th century, the letter ‘f’ was a relatively recent addition to the Armenian alphabet and ‘Frik’ was one of the first recorded personal names containing this letter and its associated sound which had been absent in Armenian until the 11th century. 

Below is an excerpt from a long poem by Frik entitled “Protest”. The translation is by Diana Der Hovanessian and Marzbed Margossian (Anthology of Armenian Poetry, New York: Columbia University Press, 1978).

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Աստուած արդար և յիրաւի,

Եւ ողորմած յամենայնի.

Հանդէս ունիմ բան մի վիճի,

Թէ դու լսես քո ծառայի:

Just and truthful God,

compassionate to all,

I wish to protest,

if you will listen to your servant.

Այս է զարմանք հիանալի,

Որ կու լինի վերայ երկրի.

Եւ հիացումն ազգի ազգի,

զՈր տեսանեմք ի յաշխարհի:

There are too many paradoxes,

too much to ponder

on your earth,

too much to wonder at.

Գէմ մէկ Ադամ էր ի դրախտին,

Եւ մէկն Եւայ իւր նմանին.

Եւ մէկ բարբառ համազգային,

Մինչև կերեալ պտղոյ ծառին:

Արդ այս բանս է հիանալի,

Եւ առաւել զարմանալի.

Թէ մէկ Ադամ և յԵւայէ

Ո՞րքան ազգեր ծնան յերկրի:

From one Adam and one single Eve,

who spoke one common language,

when the fruit of Eden was eaten, came

so many nations unfriendly to each other.

So many tongues. How astonishing!

Տէ'ր, ոչ խնդրես վըրէժ յայտնի,

Եւ ոչ ցուցանես ակն ամենի.

Գիտես մարմինք եմ մըսեղի

Գեմ արձան չեմք զինչ պըղընձի:

Why do you forgive some, and forgive our grief?

Lord, you do not ask for the obvious vengeance.

And you do not stop the stride of evil

You know we are bodies made of flesh, not of iron.

Մէկն ի պապանց պարոնորդի,

Մէկն ի հարանց մուրող լինի.

Մէկին հազար ձի ու ջորի,

Մէկին ո'չ ուլ մի, ո'չ մաքի:

Here, a prince by birth,

there, a beggar from the start.

A thousand horses and mules for one to drive;

and the other without a single goat.

Մէկին հազար կապիճ ոսկի,

Մէկին ո'չ փող մի պըղընձի.

Մէկին հազար հատ մարգարտի,

Մէկին ո'չ հո'ւլնիկ ապիկի:

This man with boxes of coins,

that one without a copper cent.

One, with strings of pearls, 

another, without a glass marble.

Զդաւվլաթն համէ` թէ ո՞ւր լինի,

Եւ զբաղդն ցոյց թէ ո՞ւր գըտւի,

Որ ի շուրջ գամ տասըն տարի,

Եթէ շալակ մ'ինձ հանդիպի:

Who doles out authority and power?

Where is luck found?

I will walk ten years for a drop.

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By Gagik Stepan-Sarkissian

A Saying about Planting a Tree

In 2019 the Armenian Institute published a new edition of Leon Z Surmelian’s (Լեւոն Զաւէն Սիւրմէլեան) I Ask You, Ladies and Gentlemen, a bestseller in America when it first appeared in 1945. Surmelian continued writing in English and in later years published books on Armenian folktales and the national epic “Daredevils of Sassoun”. Before moving to America, Surmelian wrote poetry in Armenian and published - to great acclaim - a slim volume of collected poems in 1924. He was then barely 19 years old.

My favourite in this collection is a short poem called “A Saying about Planting a Tree” (Ասացուածք ծառ տնկելու առթիւ). I couldn’t find an English translation of this poem, so had a go myself, with input from Susan Pattie, Levon Chilingirian and my daughter Noemi.

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Thoughts on Planting a Tree

By Levon Zaven Surmelian

Lord, bless this sapling. Look, I am planting it
In the crumbly and black soil where my ancestors lie;
I, their hulking descendent, possess this land again,
And grow and flourish under the sun, with their names on my lips.

This tree shall stretch open its great arms and soul,
Cradling the undying, sunlit breath of my forebearers;
Lord, let this lone, graceful tree be a prayer,
And let those, who hold their hamlet dear, come and hug its trunk.

The narrative of these cherished grounds, writ in ancient, majuscule script,
Brings a tear to my eye… This ancient, hoary land of mine
Has many dead and glory aplenty, and me as its wild offspring,
With fertile ponderings and swaying dreams.

As a cross for my dead departed, I planted this tree.

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By Gagik Stepan-Sarkissian

A Bouquet of Medieval Poetry

Armenian medieval poetry is particularly vibrant, presenting a rich tapestry of religious hymns, love songs, beautiful depictions of village life and jokular songs. Its traditions go back to pre-Christian times, with Goghtan Songs and continue through the era of Sayat-Nova.

Here are my picks from some medieval poems. I chose a few uplifting ones, full of heroic tales, jokes, sunshine and love for you to read, ranging from Goghtan Songs  to Naghash Hovnatan.

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We are grateful to Movses Khorenatsi for writing down some of the Goghtan Songs․ They are snippets of epics about ancient gods, kings and queens, and one of my favourites is the story of Artashes and Satenik – a fairy-tale about the brave king and the charming princess.

Artashes (Artaxias), reigned around 200 BC, when the Alans invaded Armenia. The Armenian forces managed to capture the Alanian prince, refusing to release him. This poem below is the Alanian king’s speech to Artashes, demanding the return of his son:  

I speak to you, oh brave Artashes,
For you have defeated the brave Alan people;
Come, listen, to the bright-eyed Alan princess
And return the youth.
For it is unbecoming of heroes
To destroy the liveliness of other great warriors
Or to take and keep them in enslavement,
So that two valiant peoples
Are consigned to perpetual enmity.

Քեզ ասեմ, այր քաջ Արտաշէս,
Որ յաղթեցեր քաջ ազգին Ալանաց,
Ե՛կ հաւանեա՛ց բանից աչագեղոյ դստերս Ալանաց՝
Տալ զպատանիդ.
Զի վասն միոյ քինու ոչ է օրէն դիւցազանց՝
Այլոց դիւցազանց զարմից բառնալ զկենդանութիւն.
Կամ ծառայեցուցանելով ի ստրկաց կարգի պահել,
Եւ թշնամութիւն յաւիտենական
Ի մէջ երկոցունց ազգաց քաջաց հաստատել:

Illustration by Zabel Boyajian (Source)

After seeing the Alanian princess Satenik, Artashes falls in love and tells their king that he will conclude a treaty and return the prince if he’s allowed to marry her. The Alanian king demands in exchange ‘’thousands and tens of thousands upon tens of thousands for the maiden of the brave Alan people’’ instead, and the Armenian king abducts Satenik:

King Artashes mounted his handsome black horse,
And taking out a red leather rope studded with golden rings,
And crossing the river like a sharp-winged eagle,
And throwing his red leather rope studded with golden rings,
Cast it upon the waist of the Alanian maiden,
And this hurt the delicate maiden's waist,
Quickly taking her back to his camp.

Հեծաւ արի արքայն Արտաշէս ի սեաւն գեղեցիկ,
Եւ հանեալ զոսկէօղ շիկափոկ պարանն,
Եւ անցեալ որպէս զարծուի սրաթեւ ընդ գետն,
Եւ ձգեալ զոսկէօղ շիկափոկ պարանն
Ընկէց ի մէջք օրիորդին Ալանաց.
Եւ շատ ցաւեցոյց զմէջք փափուկ օրիորդին,
Արագ հասուցանելով ի բանակն իւր:

Illustration by Zabel Boyajian (Source)

Of course, they married, and had a wedding so big and rich that gold rained on Artashes and pearls on Satenik. The king and queen lived happily ever after and made Armenia peaceful and prosperous, and all we have to remember them are these exciting and poetic passages.

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Gospel Book, Minaturist Grigor, 14-15 century (Source)

Many people are familiar the name of Grigor Narekatsi (Գրիգոր Նարեկացի) (c. 950 – 1003/1011), a poet, a monk, a theologian – and the author of one of the most philosophical and confessional poems, Book of Lamentations (Narek). But along with deep and dark soul-searching, Narekatsi has a series of Songs, singing of the beauty and nature around him. I’ve picked ‘’A Birthday Melody’’ (Մեղեդի ծննդյան), as it’s such glorious description of female beauty - Virgin Mary in his case. Reading this, you feel you are observing a joyful Renaissance artwork, painted in deep, vibrant colours, describing her eyes of laughing seas, pomegranate and laurel cheeks, mouth as rose petals and gold, blue and red silk gown…

What I also love about this is Narekatsi’s playful use of alliterations, using the letter ‘ծ’ almost to make us hear the laughter of the morning sea and the woman he celebrates.

Here is a snippet from the modern Eastern Armenian translation, and you can read the full original and Aram Tolegian’s excellent translation here.

Ծավալվել են աչքերը ծով
Առավոտվա ծովի վրա ծիծաղախիտ,
Ինչպես երկու փայլակնաձեւ արեգակներ.
Շողն է նման լուսացնցուղ այգաբացի:
Թափվում էին այտերից վառ՝
Դափնեվարդի ու նռնենու ծաղկաթերթեր.
Գեղաշիտակ իրանից սիրտն էր կարկաչում
Հուզավարար կենսատու սեր:
Կամար կապած թեւերը գիրգ՝
Երգում էր նա ախորժալուր ու գեղգեղուն,
Ելեւէջներն հյուսում իրար.
Շարժվում հանդարտ ու ճեմում էր թիկնեթեկին:
Բերանն երկթերթ, շրթունքներից վարդն էր կաթում.
Լեզվի տավիղն էր քաղցրերգում հուզումնահորդ.
Շողում էին նույն կենսավառ
Սիրով չքնաղ ու գինեթույր
Ծամերն իրենց գիսակներով խոպոպավոր:

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Nerses Shnorhali, Poems, 1644 (Source)

Nerses the Gracious or Nerses Shnorhali (Սուրբ Ներսէս Դ. Կլայեցի կամ Ներսէս Շնորհալի) was an incredibly important presence as the Catholicos of Armenia in the 12th century, a poet, a musician, a theologian and a writer.

He is considered the founder of the Cilician school of poetry, and is also famous for his fun and playful riddles for children. There is a very childlike, innocent quality in his hymn I picked – “Morning Light” (Առաւօտ լուսոյ). Its simplicity and music are so enticing; he made the hymn even more interesting by fitting it into the Armenian alphabet – every verse, comprising of 3 lines, starts with the next letter. Here is a short snippet with translation from Anthology of Armenian Poetry. You can read the whole thing here and of course listen to the hymn here.

Առաւօտ լուսոյ,
Արեգակն արդար,
Առ իս լոյս ծագեա:

Բըղխումն ի Հօրէ,
Բըղխեա ի հոգւոյս,
Բան քեզ ի հաճոյս:

Գանձդ ողորմութեան,
Գանձիդ ծածկելոյ
Գըտող զիս արա:

Դուռն ողորմութեան,
Դաւանողիս բաց,
Դասեցո վերնոցն:

Ascending sun, ascending light,
Awakening the morning,
Almighty justice, let dawn light in me.

Born of the Father,
Brighten my soul.
Bring forth the word.

Christ Jesus,
Compassionate,
Concealed treasure.

Doorway of mercy,
Door to the heavens,
Disclose the true light.

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Hymnal, Adam and Eve, Constantinople 1678 (Source)

My next poet is Nahapet Kuchak, the bard of Van, our first ashough (minstrel) who lived in the 16th century and changed the course of Armenian poetry dramatically.

His poems are called hairens, which are quatrains with 15 syllables, and talk about love and yearning, homeland and exile.

I picked two of his love hairens, the first one probably being one of his most lyrical and tender works, creating an incredibly vivid image of love.

Ես աչք ու դուն լուս, հոգի՛, առանց լուս աչքըն խաւարի,
Ես ձուկ ու դուն ջուր, հոգի՛, առանց ջուր ձուկըն մեռանի։
Երբ զձուկն ի ջըրէն հանեն ՚ւ ի այլ ջուր ձըգեն, կու ապրի,
Երբ զիս ի քենէ զատեն, քան զմեռնիլն այլ ճար չիլինի։

I am the eye, you are the light, my love. Blind without light is the eye.
I am a fish, the water you, my love. Without water fish must die.
If you pull a fish from the river and throw it in another it will live -
but if I am parted from you, I'll die without hope of reprieve.

This next hairen - poem is wonderfully lyrical and exciting as well, talking about his beloved who he likens to an almond blossom, but he’s also full of earthly desires of sharing some wine and kisses with her too:

Ա՜յ իմ նըշենի ծաղիկ, ծաղկեցար ու դարձար ի նուշ.
Բերանդ է աղուշ մաղուշ, պըռկըներդ է ամրաւ ու նուշ.
Զարախդ որ յափիդ ունիս՝ դու խըմէ՛ որ ասեմ՝ Անո՜ւշ.
Պագնե՜մ զայդ բերնիդ բոլորն որ գինւոյն հոտըն գայ անուշ։

O my almost blossom, you bloomed and became delicious,
Your mouth is honey sweet, your lips rich as almond and dates,
Drink from the cup of wine you hold, that I may say sweet touches sweet.
O I shall kiss all around your mouth, whence comes the fragrance of wine.

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Naghash Hovnatan (Source)

Naghash Hovnatan  was an incredibly gifted artist and while we know very little about his life (he lived in Nakhichevan in the 17-18th centuries), we know that he was a poet, a musician, a minstrel, a painter and illustrator of manuscripts.

When rereading his works, I came across this playful poem – “Song About the Cat Playing Dead Who the Mice Want to Bury” ( Տաղ ի վերայ սուտ մեռեալ կատուին, զոր մկներն տանին թաղեն).

It’s so rare to read something so funny and different from our medieval poems, so this delightful piece is my final choice. The first verse describes the cat, who plays dead and the mice are celebrating, stealing food and baking bread. Then he moves to the cat’s perspective and in the rest of the poem we hear the cat plotting what it is going to do to the mice when he wakes up from his pretend death (make Karabakh slippers from their skin and drive the rest of  Marzvan!). And of course, if you read it aloud, it’s easy to guess that Hovnatan was an ashugh too and these are lyrics to a song. Read an except below and the whole thing here. 

Կատուն մեռաւ. ափսոս ու վա՜խ.
Մկներն այսօր խիստ են ուրախ.
Թէ որ յանկարծ վեր կենայ սաղ,
Մկներն կանէ արիւնշաղախ:

«Ես կատու եմ, ոտքս արագ,
Մկանց ես խիստ եմ հակառակ,
Ահա ամենքդ հասարակ,
Զձեզ առնելոց եմ խայտառակ:

Ես կատու եմ՝ մկան եաղի,
Սրտումս դրել եմ դաղի՝
Չարուխ շինեմ Ղարաբաղի,
Ով որ եկել է ինձ թաղի:

Իմ մուշտակս կարմիր նախշուն,
Քուրքչիներ ունեմ .........
Մեր թաւանին մկներն անհուն,
Ցերեկն քուն, գիշերն արթուն:

Մկունք բերին՝ ալիւր, եղ, խին,
Որ հոգոյս համար հաց թխին.
Հիմա կոխեմ ձեզ մէջ ցխին,
Ամենն սեւ անեմ ձեր գլխին»:

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By Tato Ayvazyan, AI Director