Poem From Hovannes Toumanian

[Louise]

I have looked at all his poems and I have not found this one

 

I one day my dear friend...

 

I would like to find the title in armenian. I can read armenian.

 

Thank you for a reply.

[nairi]

Համեցեք..

 

Եթե մի օր, անո՛ւշ ընկեր,

Գաս այցելու իմ շերմին,

Ու նորաբույս վառ ծաղիկներ

Տեսնես փըռված չորս կողմին,

 

Դու չը կարծես, թե հասարակ

Ծաղիկներ են ոտքիդ տակ,

Կամ թե գարունն է այն բերել,

Իմ նոր տունը զարդարել։

 

Նրանք չերգած իմ երգերն են,

Որ սրտումըս ես տարա,

Նըրանք սիրո այն խոսքերն են,

Որ դեռ չասած ես մեռա։

 

Նրանք իմ ջերմ համբույրներն են,

Այն աշխարքից ուղարկված,

Որի ճամփեն քո առաջև

Գերեզմանով է փակված...

 

(1894)

 

Which reminds me of Vahan Terian:

 

Իմ գերեզմանին դուք չմոտենաք,

Հանկարծ կըզարթնի ջերմ լալու փափագ,

Սիրտս չի գտնի ոչ մի արտասուք:

 

Իմ գերեզնանը թող լինի հեռվում,

Ուր մահացել են շշուկ, երգ ու ձայն.

Թող շուրջս փռվի անանց լռություն,

Թող ինձ չըհիշեն, թող ինձ մոռանան:

 

Իմ գերեզմանին դուք չմոտենաք,

Թողեք, որ հանգչի իմ սիրտը հոգնած,

Թողեք, որ լինեմ հեռավոր, մենակ.—

Չըզգամ, որ կա սե՛ր և ցնո՛րք, և լաց:

 

(1904)

[Louise]

Համեցեք..

 

Եթե մի օր, անո՛ւշ ընկեր,

Գաս այցելու իմ շերմին,

Ու նորաբույս վառ ծաղիկներ

Տեսնես փըռված չորս կողմին,

 

------------------------------------------I thank you very much -----

 

Would you be interested by a translation in French ?

[nairi]

Would you be interested by a translation in French ?

 

Sure. The more we translate, the more people will be able to become acquainted with our literature (esp. Armenians who have lost their mother tongue). Will you translate it?

[Louise]

Sure. The more we translate, the more people will be able to become acquainted with our literature (esp. Armenians who have lost their mother tongue). Will you translate it?

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

 

Si un jour mon doux ami,

Tu viens rendre visite à mon tombeau

Et que tu voies des fleurs fraîches brillantes

Etalées aux quatre coins.

 

Ne crois pas que ce soit à tes pieds

Des fleurs ordinaires,

Ou que le printemps les ait apportées

Pour décorer ma nouvelle demeure

 

Ce sont les chants que je n'ai pas chantés

Que j'ai emportées dans mon cœur

Ce sont les paroles d'amour pas encore dites

Quand je suis mort

 

Ce sont des baisers chaleureux ,

Adressés de ce monde

Dont le chemin devant toi

Est fermé par le cimetière.

 

(1894)

 

(traduction Louise Kiffer)

 

[Louise]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Si un jour mon doux ami,

Tu viens rendre visite à mon tombeau

Et que tu voies des fleurs fraîches brillantes

Etalées aux quatre coins.

 

Ne crois pas que ce soit à tes pieds

Des fleurs ordinaires,

Ou que le printemps les ait apportées

Pour décorer ma nouvelle demeure

 

Ce sont les chants que je n'ai pas chantés

Que j'ai emportées dans mon cœur

Ce sont les paroles d'amour pas encore dites

Quand je suis mort

 

Ce sont des baisers chaleureux ,

Adressés de ce monde

Dont le chemin devant toi

Est fermé par le cimetière.

 

(1894)

 

(traduction Louise Kiffer)

----------------------------------------------------

Vahan Terian's poem translated in French

 

 

 

Vahan Terian

 

Vous, ne vous approchez pas de mon tombeau,

Soudain s'éveille une envie de pleurer à chaudes larmes

Mon cœur ne trouve pas un seul pleur.

 

Que mon tombeau reste au loin,

Là où sont morts le tapage, les chants et les voix,

Qu'autour de moi s'étende un silence éternel,

Qu'on ne se souvienne plus de moi, qu'on m'oublie !

 

Vous, ne vous approchez pas de mon tombeau,

Laissez se reposer mon cœur fatigué,

Laissez-moi rester au loin, seul,

Que je ne sente pas que l'amour existe, et les chimères et les pleurs.

 

(1904)

Traduction Louise Kiffer

 

 

 

[nairi]

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Si un jour mon doux ami,

Tu viens rendre visite à mon tombeau

Et que tu voies des fleurs fraîches brillantes

Etalées aux quatre coins.

 

Ne crois pas que ce soit à tes pieds

Des fleurs ordinaires,

Ou que le printemps les ait apportées

Pour décorer ma nouvelle demeure

 

Ce sont les chants que je n'ai pas chantés

Que j'ai emportées dans mon cœur

Ce sont les paroles d'amour pas encore dites

Quand je suis mort

 

Ce sont des baisers chaleureux ,

Adressés de ce monde

Dont le chemin devant toi

Est fermé par le cimetière.

 

(1894)

 

(traduction Louise Kiffer)

 

Merci.

 

I attempted Terian, in English, a while ago, but I'm not happy with some of the translation. Anyway, here it is. Make of it as you wish:

 

Do not approach my grave,

It might wake from its warm, sad wish,

My heart will not find a single tear.

 

Let my grave be afar,

Where whisper, song and sound have died:

Let infinite silence surround me,

Do not let them remember me, let them forget me.

 

Do not approach my grave,

Let, so my weary heart extinguishes,

Let, so I can be afar alone, —

To not feel, that there is love and imagination, and grief.

 

1904, Vahan Terian

[nairi]

Let the whole world know how ancient and how cultural we have always been. Good works and thanks.

 

I can't think of any nation that doesn't have an interesting history and culture. We're not unique.

 

I also don't care about what other people think of Armenians. I care more about Armenians who have read just about everything there is to be read in English, French, Russian, German, and Zulu literature, but have not read a single line of Armenian literature.

[Louise]

It doesn't hurt for the rest of the world to know about our cultures and our products too.

----------------------------------

 

I had a web site with armenian poems translated in French. Let us see if you will

recognize them

 

 

http://www.armenian-poetry.netfirms.com/

 

 

[Em]

Thank you, thank you so much Nairi. I have not come across either of those. They are beautiful.

[nairi]

Thank you, thank you so much Nairi. I have not come across either of those. They are beautiful.

 

You're welcome.

[nairi]

I had a web site with armenian poems translated in French. Let us see if you will

recognize them

http://www.armenian-poetry.netfirms.com/

 

Thank you.

[nairi]

Yes this is true, every nation has an interesting history (even the far end of the African nations). You can learn from some of their cultures.

 

Well, although I totally agree with one part of your second paragraph and the fact that some Armenians don't even know any of our literature nor our rich culture and that is a shear shame. But I don't agree not to have other nations or people to know about Armenians. Look at the Chinese for instance, they let the world know and respect their nation more, because of the made in Chinese products that they sold throughout the U.S. and everywhere else too (as well as economically they have multyplied their assets). It doesn't hurt for the rest of the world to know about our cultures and our products too.

 

Yes, and we saw the scandal that those Chinese products produced. I suggest a little humility.

[Arpa]

Thank you Louise and Nairi. I could not find Toumanian’s poem since I had very little to go by. Damn, and double damn! Why don’t we have a UNI I mean UNI CODE by which to search???!!! I can't find it so I will type it even it takes me forever.

It may be a sad commentary that we are talking about death and thanatology, yet ironically, it seems some of our best and most lyrical works are about the subject.

One wonders if Hovannes and Vahan were inspired by Petros. One can understand Vahan, as he shared similar fate with Petros.

Rest assured Petros, Hovannes and Vahan. Your memories will never fade. Just as the memories of all those unsung heroes who were subjected to ridicule and persecution during their living days. The likes of Abovian, Bakunts, Charents and … why not.. Sevak. Just as we will not forsake the Ani-s, the Johannes-es and Aksel (vartanians) of today.

I will translate the first stanza and the last lines. I will leave the translation of the rest to those better qualified.

Ijust found out that a translation by Alice Stone Blackwell had been posted here, "My Death"; http://hyeforum.com/index.php?showtopic=5325

…

If the pallid death angel against me

Were to descend with endless smile,,

To dissipate my pains and soul,

Know well, I am still alive..

….

But if unmarked remain my tomb

A dent in earth or a heap of soil,

And when fade my memory,

Alas! Only then will I die…

….

===

 

ԻՄ ՄԱՀԸ

Պետրոս Դուրեան

1871

Եթէ դըժգոյն մահու հրեշտակ

Անհուն ժպտով մ իջնէ իմ դէմ…

Շոգիանան ցաւքս ու հոգիս,

Գիտցէք որ դեռ կենդանի եմ:

 

Եթէ սընարըս’ իմ տիպար

Մոմ մը վըտիտ ու մահադէմ

Ո~հ, նըշուլէ ցուրտ ճառագայթք,

 

Գիտցեք որ դեռ կէնդանի եմ:

 

Եթէ ճակտովս արտոսրազոծ

Զիս պատանի մէջ ցուրտ զերթ վէմ

Փաթթեն, դընեն սեւ դագաղը,

Գիտցեք ոտ դեռ կենդանի եմ:

 

Եթէ հնչէ տըխուր կոչնակ’

Թրթռուն ծիղաղն մահու դժխեմ,

Դագաղս առնէ իր յամըր քայլ,

Գիտցեք որ դեռ կենդանի եմ:

 

Եթէ մարդիկ այն մահերգակ’

Որք սեւ ունին եւ խոժոր դէմ’

Համասըփռեն խունկ ու աղոթք,

Գիտզեք որ դեռ կենդանի եմ:

 

Եթ’ յարդարեն իմ հողակոյտ,

Եւ հեծեծմամբ ու սըգալէն

Իմ սիրելիքը բաժնըւին,

Գիտցեք որ դեռ կենդանի եմ:

 

Իսկ աննըշան եթէ մնայ

Երկրի մէկ խորշն հողակոյտն իմ,

Եւ յիշատակս ալ թառամի,

Ա~հ, այն ատեն ես կը մէռնի’մ…:

Edited October 1, 2007 by Arpa

[Ani]

Համեցեք..

 

Եթե մի օր, անո՛ւշ ընկեր,

Գաս այցելու իմ շերմին,

Ու նորաբույս վառ ծաղիկներ

Տեսնես փըռված չորս կողմին,

 

Դու չը կարծես, թե հասարակ

Ծաղիկներ են ոտքիդ տակ,

Կամ թե գարունն է այն բերել,

Իմ նոր տունը զարդարել։

 

Նրանք չերգած իմ երգերն են,

Որ սրտումըս ես տարա,

Նըրանք սիրո այն խոսքերն են,

Որ դեռ չասած ես մեռա։

 

Նրանք իմ ջերմ համբույրներն են,

Այն աշխարքից ուղարկված,

Որի ճամփեն քո առաջև

Գերեզմանով է փակված...

 

(1894)

 

Which reminds me of Vahan Terian:

 

Իմ գերեզմանին դուք չմոտենաք,

Հանկարծ կըզարթնի ջերմ լալու փափագ,

Սիրտս չի գտնի ոչ մի արտասուք:

 

Իմ գերեզնանը թող լինի հեռվում,

Ուր մահացել են շշուկ, երգ ու ձայն.

Թող շուրջս փռվի անանց լռություն,

Թող ինձ չըհիշեն, թող ինձ մոռանան:

 

Իմ գերեզմանին դուք չմոտենաք,

Թողեք, որ հանգչի իմ սիրտը հոգնած,

Թողեք, որ լինեմ հեռավոր, մենակ.—

Չըզգամ, որ կա սե՛ր և ցնո՛րք, և լաց:

 

(1904)

 

When i saw the post...I first thought of Teryan's "Im gerezmanin duq chmotenaq", its a shame i never came across to the one by Toumanyan...

Thanks Nairi

 

Dear Louise...can you correct Toumanyan's last name on the name of the thread...Sorry, i am not being mean, Thank You...

 

Note: Ani Jan she can't do it (Change the title) but I'll do it for her.

 

Thank You Yervant Jan...

Edited September 28, 2007 by Ani777

[Em]

Arpa you are seldom wrong and are right once again! I very much agree wiht the following comment you made:

 

"It may be a sad commentary that we are talking about death and thanatology, yet ironically, it seems some of our best and most lyrical works are about the subject."

 

I think death is is such a grandios and mysterious a subject that it piques our interests and plays upon many emotions well above all other subjects. My favorite poetry is of death and the dying. Sadly, I am past the love mumbo jumbo...lol.

 

 

I love the one by Teryan..beacause I personally reead so much longing to live between the lines of death. Maybe it is just my skewed interpretation of it....

 

 

[ED]

Luise, Nairi, Ani, Arpa and the rest, thank you all for your contribution

wile reading the topic i felt for just one second as Tumanian and Durian, teryan Charents, and many many others

 

now if Arpa would traslate Charents Armenian-eEnglish.

I need to show to this to someone ( a none Armenian) which asked me exacly the same thing this morning......

 

here it is

 

"Es inchi masin inchu mi sur epigram ches hyusum?"

"Yes im Matners amen kextot Bani chem qsum"

 

wile at it Arpa jan traslate also Hamo Sahyan

 

Hayastan aselits tevers batsvumen............

 

Nairi, I'm proud of you dear Lady!

[MosJan]

we have cleaned the topic -

to a member who thinks this forum is her personal

please do not trash and disenigrate topics, do not pick fights w/ others, next time you trash a topic i will delete 20 of your own topics - next time you fight i will only let you post in chit chat forum

 

do not PM me or the rest of the MOD's or the NOB's regarding this post

do not replay to this post

 

just mind your own business and do not DO NOT get me med

 

 

 

 

PS. Luise, Nairi, Ani, Arpa and the rest, thank you all / SHnorhakal em

 

[Louise]

Luise, Nairi, Ani, Arpa and the rest, thank you all for your contribution

wile reading the topic i felt for just one second as Tumanian and Durian, teryan Charents, and many many others

 

now if Arpa would traslate Charents Armenian-eEnglish.

I need to show to this to someone ( a none Armenian) which asked me exacly the same thing this morning......

 

here it is

 

"Es inchi masin inchu mi sur epigram ches hyusum?"

"Yes im Matners amen kextot Bani chem qsum"

 

wile at it Arpa jan traslate also Hamo Sahyan

 

Hayastan aselits tevers batsvumen............

 

Nairi, I'm proud of you dear Lady!

---------------------------------------------------

I thank all of you for your appreciation. I made an error of typing in the name of Tumanian, in the title. I cannot correct it myself. I should be grategul if someone can correct it.

As for the death, I know an armenian poem which says: "Think always to the death". (Mahe micht hishir) I have also translated in French a poem (very long) of Yeghishe Charents : "Vision de mort"

and another one: "Danteagan arasbel".

Best thoughts to everybody

Louise

[Johannes]

Մահուան մասին մտածելով եւ գրելով, թերեւս բարեկամանում ենք նրա հետ:

Տխուր եմ բայց հանգիստ

[nairi]

Ani, Ed, and Movses, you're welcome. Not that I feel I did anything spectacular.

[Louise]

Մահուան մասին մտածելով եւ գրելով, թերեւս բարեկամանում ենք նրա հետ:

Տխուր եմ բայց հանգիստ

------------------------------------------------

 

It is a poem of Kevork Emine

 

 

 

SOUVIENS-TOI TOUJOURS DE LA MORT (traduction Louise Kiffer)

 

 

Souviens-toi toujours de la mort

Souviens-toi , non pas pour pleurer

Mais, - pour que tu saches -

Tout ce qu'il reste encore …à rire

Et…pour te réjouir.

 

Souviens-toi toujours de la mort

Non pas pour trouver insensé

Ce que tu dois faire,

Mais te dépêcher,

Puisqu'il y a du travail sous ce ciel.

 

Et ne te promène pas

Désoeuvré et abruti,

Dans ces pièces que… tu crois à toi.

Demain,

Dans la petite ou la grande,

Toi aussi, tu te coucheras… sur la table

Dans le cercueil tout neuf,

Pour…devenir poussière,

Et être évoqué seulement

Dans les avis de décès,

Les entretiens et les discours…

 

Souviens-toi toujours de la mort

Pour te rappeler pourquoi

Et ce que tu veux faire dans le monde.

 

 

KEVORK EMINE

 

 

 

 

[Harut]

Arpa you are seldom wrong and are right once again! I very much agree wiht the following comment you made:

 

"It may be a sad commentary that we are talking about death and thanatology, yet ironically, it seems some of our best and most lyrical works are about the subject."

 

I think death is is such a grandios and mysterious a subject that it piques our interests and plays upon many emotions well above all other subjects. My favorite poetry is of death and the dying. Sadly, I am past the love mumbo jumbo...lol.

I love the one by Teryan..beacause I personally reead so much longing to live between the lines of death. Maybe it is just my skewed interpretation of it....

 

i think there are different reasons why people write about death...

 

1. it is known that most writers, unless a commercial writer, are hopeless losers or mentally instable people, especially poets... so, it is just natual that they are looking for a way out, a solution... and death is the easest way out from the apperent misery...

 

2. poets like to be unique, different from others, from ordinary people... as discussed here before by nairi, a lot of them compare themselves with god... they like to think of themselves as above the rest... so, it is just natural that they talk/write about things that are not so common with the rest of the people, that are taboo... they just like to prove that they are different, that they can tackle questions that ordinary people can't... plus, the god syndrome makes them want to prove that they are above all, that they are not afraid of death, that they know things that others don't...

 

3. a lot of poets starve for recognition and attention... so, it is just natural that they write about controvertional and disturbing topics to attrack that so much wanted attention...

 

4. there are a lot of arenas of writing... some people write out of their imagination, some write about their daily reflections on life, etc. etc... but it every case writer's life experience has a great impact on his writing... and death is part of that life experience... and some people experience death a lot more than others... so, it is just natural that they at one point or another will have so much built-up inside about death that they will put it on paper...

 

5. it comes naturally to some people for an unexplanable reasons...

 

as you see from above, it just natural that poets will write about death...

[Ani]

i think there are different reasons why people write about death...

 

1. it is known that most writers, unless a commercial writer, are hopeless losers or mentally instable people, especially poets... so, it is just natual that they are looking for a way out, a solution... and death is the easest way out from the apperent misery...

 

2. poets like to be unique, different from others, from ordinary people... as discussed here before by nairi, a lot of them compare themselves with god... they like to think of themselves as above the rest... so, it is just natural that they talk/write about things that are not so common with the rest of the people, that are taboo... they just like to prove that they are different, that they can tackle questions that ordinary people can't... plus, the god syndrome makes them want to prove that they are above all, that they are not afraid of death, that they know things that others don't...

 

3. a lot of poets starve for recognition and attention... so, it is just natural that they write about controvertional and disturbing topics to attrack that so much wanted attention...

 

4. there are a lot of arenas of writing... some people write out of their imagination, some write about their daily reflections on life, etc. etc... but it every case writer's life experience has a great impact on his writing... and death is part of that life experience... and some people experience death a lot more than others... so, it is just natural that they at one point or another will have so much built-up inside about death that they will put it on paper...

 

5. it comes naturally to some people for an unexplanable reasons...

 

as you see from above, it just natural that poets will write about death...

 

 

i thought it is emotional instability...

[Arpa]

i think there are different reasons why people write about death...

 

1. it is known that most writers, unless a commercial writer, are hopeless losers or mentally instable people, especially poets... so, it is just natual that they are looking for a way out, a solution... and death is the easest way out

Harut, you ignore the main premise.

What I cannot understand is why Toumanian, who was a healthy, relatively prosperous writer, who fathered a dozen of chicks would have written about death, unless he was reflecting on the death of a dearly departed, be it friend, family or a poetic soul mate.

Beside the fact artists in general and poets in particular are extremely sensitive to the facts of life (and death).

We do understand why Dourian/Tourian(age 21), Terian (age 35) and Metsarents woud be so obsessed with death as they all lived in extreme poverty (is Metsarents an exception), and spent their adult(?) lives in the shadow of death, suffering the miseries of tuberculosis during the day and not knowing if they would wake up the next morning. It is understandable why they would seek answers in death that they could not find in life.

It is a wonder that Hacob Baronian beat the odds (of poverty) and lived into maturity while according to some rumors that upon his death his only worldy posessions were a slice of bread and a head of onion found in his pocket.

Does poetry bring misery or misery brings poetry? And, of course, we know that some poetry is a product of joy, just as an "ode to joy" (Bethoven Symphony #9.)