A Fly in the Ointment??

[Arpa]

A Fly in the Ointment

 

Something had been nagging for quite sometime.

It visited on me again as it has done on and off.

Going through Paruyr Sevak's writings of which we saw a few, there are a few more I would like to offer.

I hope the readership will take this at face value. It is not a condemnation and it does not diminish the value of any of the personnae involved.

One of Paryr's articles deals with a great Armenian poet, writer, teacher whom Paruyr labels as Hay Nor Qnarergoutyan Himnadir ou Arajin Dasakan@. In fact in the article he expands on these words and calls Mkrtich Peshiktashlian as the founder of modern Armenian Lyrical poetry as well as the first and best classicist of modern times. It is also worth mentioning that Mkrtich was also a musician as well as a writer and he attached tunes to many of his own powms. And as expected Paruyr the reviewer heavily dwells on two of the poets works, Mah Qajorvouyn and the other, even more popular Taghoumn Qajordvouyn. Both poems are inspired and dedicated to the haroic Battle of Zeitoun. (Both poems can be viewed at the site provided below). Here are some of the quotes Sevak cites, they are both from Taghoumn Qajordvouyn. Paruyr takes the words and applies them to Mkrtich;

Vasn hayrenyats merar

Doun shat apretsar...

 

and the other, which Sevak uses to close his article;

 

Voch ayl shqegh ardzanagir, voch tapan,

Zinq@n minak thoghoutsinq your parqin het:

 

(Note Mkrtich's language is an equal amalgam of grabar and ashkharabar)

 

Here is the fly in the ointment, so to speak, I am surprised that Paruyr may not have been aware of it. I had heard sometime ago that MP's poem Thaghoumn Qajordvouyn was not really original, snd that it was a translation, as to me very good one at that. Suffice it to say that Mkrtich Peshiktashlian is best remembered by the sais poem, in fact it may be considered his signature opus. This had bothered me, I don't remember if at that time I was told where it come from. Reading Paruyr's review renewed my ineterest and searched, and voila!!!

 

Sure enough the peom was originally written by Charles Wolfe, an Irish poet who oddly enough reminds us of our illafted poets, he had died at the age of 22. The said poem had been written in memory of English Cnl.Sir John Moore of the army who had lost his life at the battle of La Coruna in France while fighting against the Napoleonic forces. The biographer goes further saying that Wolfe's poem (see below) is romanticization and dramatization at best as Cnl. Moore had been buried with full military honor and that the said poem was not known until 1817 , 16 years after the the colonels' death.

 

If you can access the site below you can see how Wolf'es and MP's poems coincide almost verbatim. Hers is a teaser, the opening lines of the Armenian; Voch pogh zarkinq voch ardzaganq lernasouyz, Sare i sar charashshouk tarin lour..., and further down; Petq cher dagagh ev voch jermak patanqner....

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/armen...ry/mgrdichb.htm

 

 

Charles Wolfe 1791-1823

 

CCXVIII. The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna

 

NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

 

We buried him darkly at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning;

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light

And the lantern dimly burning.

 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,

With his martial cloak around him.

 

Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

 

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed

And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,

And we far away on the billow!

 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

 

But half of our heavy task was done

When the clock struck the hour for retiring,

And we heard the distant and random gun

That the foe was sullenly firing.

 

 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,

But we left him alone with his glory.

[Arpa]

A Fly in the Ointment

 

Something had been nagging for quite sometime.

It visited on me again as it has done on and off.

Going through Paruyr Sevak's writings of which we saw a few, there are a few more I would like to offer.

I hope the readership will take this at face value. It is not a condemnation and it does not diminish the value of any of the personnae involved.

One of Paryr's articles deals with a great Armenian poet, writer, teacher whom Paruyr labels as Hay Nor Qnarergoutyan Himnadir ou Arajin Dasakan@. In fact in the article he expands on these words and calls Mkrtich Peshiktashlian as the founder of modern Armenian Lyrical poetry as well as the first and best classicist of modern times. It is also worth mentioning that Mkrtich was also a musician as well as a writer and he attached tunes to many of his own powms. And as expected Paruyr the reviewer heavily dwells on two of the poets works, Mah Qajorvouyn and the other, even more popular Taghoumn Qajordvouyn. Both poems are inspired and dedicated to the haroic Battle of Zeitoun. (Both poems can be viewed at the site provided below). Here are some of the quotes Sevak cites, they are both from Taghoumn Qajordvouyn. Paruyr takes the words and applies them to Mkrtich;

Vasn hayrenyats merar

Doun shat apretsar...

 

and the other, which Sevak uses to close his article;

 

Voch ayl shqegh ardzanagir, voch tapan,

Zinq@n minak thoghoutsinq your parqin het:

 

(Note Mkrtich's language is an equal amalgam of grabar and ashkharabar)

 

Here is the fly in the ointment, so to speak, I am surprised that Paruyr may not have been aware of it. I had heard sometime ago that MP's poem Thaghoumn Qajordvouyn was not really original, snd that it was a translation, as to me very good one at that. Suffice it to say that Mkrtich Peshiktashlian is best remembered by the sais poem, in fact it may be considered his signature opus. This had bothered me, I don't remember if at that time I was told where it come from. Reading Paruyr's review renewed my ineterest and searched, and voila!!!

 

Sure enough the peom was originally written by Charles Wolfe, an Irish poet who oddly enough reminds us of our illafted poets, he had died at the age of 22. The said poem had been written in memory of English Cnl.Sir John Moore of the army who had lost his life at the battle of La Coruna in France while fighting against the Napoleonic forces. The biographer goes further saying that Wolfe's poem (see below) is romanticization and dramatization at best as Cnl. Moore had been buried with full military honor and that the said poem was not known until 1817 , 16 years after the the colonels' death.

 

If you can access the site below you can see how Wolf'es and MP's poems coincide almost verbatim. Hers is a teaser, the opening lines of the Armenian; Voch pogh zarkinq voch ardzaganq lernasouyz, Sare i sar charashshouk tarin lour..., and further down; Petq cher dagagh ev voch jermak patanqner....

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/armen...ry/mgrdichb.htm

Charles Wolfe 1791-1823

 

CCXVIII. The Burial of Sir John Moore at Corunna

 

NOT a drum was heard, not a funeral note,

As his corpse to the rampart we hurried;

Not a soldier discharged his farewell shot

O'er the grave where our hero we buried.

 

We buried him darkly at dead of night,

The sods with our bayonets turning;

By the struggling moonbeam's misty light

And the lantern dimly burning.

 

No useless coffin enclosed his breast,

Not in sheet nor in shroud we wound him;

But he lay like a warrior taking his rest,

With his martial cloak around him.

 

Few and short were the prayers we said,

And we spoke not a word of sorrow;

But we steadfastly gazed on the face of the dead,

And we bitterly thought of the morrow.

 

We thought, as we hollow'd his narrow bed

And smoothed down his lonely pillow,

That the foe and the stranger would tread o'er his head,

And we far away on the billow!

 

Lightly they'll talk of the spirit that's gone,

And o'er his cold ashes upbraid him;

But little he'll reck, if they let him sleep on

In the grave where a Briton has laid him.

 

But half of our heavy task was done

When the clock struck the hour for retiring,

And we heard the distant and random gun

That the foe was sullenly firing.

 

Slowly and sadly we laid him down,

From the field of his fame fresh and gory;

We carved not a line, and we raised not a stone,

But we left him alone with his glory.

To open an old wound.

Nowhere in Beshiktashlian's biography it is menioned that the following is a direct tnanslation.

http://armenianhouse.org/blackwell/armenia...iktashlian.html

MUGURDITCH BESHIKTASHLIAN, a Roman Catholic Armenian, was born in 1829; was educated at the Mechitarist Convent in Venice, and was for years a professor of the Armenian language in Constantinople. In addition to his original works, he translated into Armenian many poems from other languages. It is not certain whether “A Brave Son of Armenia” is an adaptation from one of Victor Hugo’s “Oriental Poems,” or whether Hugo, who was an admirer of Armenian poetry, adapted it from the Armenian, Beshiktashlian died in 1868. On his gravestone are carved the lines that form the refrain of one of his most popular songs: —

“ What sound, beneath the stars aflame,

So lovely as a brother’s name ? ”

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/engli...humnkachort.htm

Is it poetic license or poetic "honesty"?

The above site will not open. I can't copy and paste. Here is Mkrtich's Armenian version.

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/engli...humnkachort.htm

Compare and see it word for word.

Edited June 24, 2007 by Arpa

[vartahoor]

To open an old wound.

Nowhere in Beshiktashlian's biography it is menioned that the following is a direct tnanslation.

http://armenianhouse.org/blackwell/armenia...iktashlian.html

MUGURDITCH BESHIKTASHLIAN, a Roman Catholic Armenian, was born in 1829; was educated at the Mechitarist Convent in Venice, and was for years a professor of the Armenian language in Constantinople. In addition to his original works, he translated into Armenian many poems from other languages. It is not certain whether “A Brave Son of Armenia” is an adaptation from one of Victor Hugo’s “Oriental Poems,” or whether Hugo, who was an admirer of Armenian poetry, adapted it from the Armenian, Beshiktashlian died in 1868. On his gravestone are carved the lines that form the refrain of one of his most popular songs: —

“ What sound, beneath the stars aflame,

So lovely as a brother’s name ? ”

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/engli...humnkachort.htm

Is it poetic license or poetic "honesty"?

The above site will not open. I can't copy and paste. Here is Mkrtich's Armenian version.

http://www.geocities.com/armenia2003/engli...humnkachort.htm

Compare and see it word for word.

How come this is in funny orthography?

Vartahoor

[Arpa]

name='vartahoor' date='02 July 2007 - 09:53 PM' timestamp='1183409596' post='20509

How come this is in funny orthography?

Vartahoor

Yes, Dearly departed Hratch/Vartahoor, the above renditions are in that “funny ortography” because some of us think “orthography” is a “funny game that can be amended every 10 years or so. They should form their own "comedy club” and have fun with "կոմեդյա կլուբ".

The above sites have expired so I will type it in longhand.

A poem in memory of a Zeituntsi Hero by Mkrtich Beshikta,lian, (1828-1868). (Is not “beshiktashli” a furkish family name?)

---

ՔԱՋՈՐԴՒՈՅՆ ԹԱՂՈՒՄԸ

(In that “funny orthography…

ԹԱՂՈՒՄՆ ՔԱՋՈՐԴՎՈՒՅՆ)

 

Ոչ փող զարկինք , ոչ արձագանք լեռնասոյզ

Սարէ ի սար չարաշշուկ տարին լուր

Ու չերգեցինք ողբի երգեր սրտահոյզ

Երբ պատանվոյն բացինք մռայլ թոսին դուռ:

 

Գիշերային մունջ ստուերներ շուրջ կային

Երբ հրացանի կոթով ըզհող փորէեցինք.

Լուսինն միայն դողդոջ շողայր մեր գլխին,

Սուգ էր պատեր ըզդաշտ, բլուր եւ երգինք:

 

Պէտք չէր գագաղ, եւ ոչ ճերմակ պատանք ներ,

Որով գոցուէր ազատորդի Զէյթունցին.

Նա Յետ մարտին կարծես հոգնած կը հանգչեր,

Ու վերարկուն կարմիր բաւեր իւր անձին:

 

Բայց երբ գլուխն ի բարձ դրինք հողաշէն,

Տեսանք ըզգեղ ճակտին ու վէրքն պայծառ,

Ով պատանյակ, ըսինք ամէնքս մէկ բերնէն,

»Վասն Հայրենեաց մեռար դու շատ ապրեցար:»

 

Գնայ զրուցէ ՀԱՅկազարմից մեծ ոգուով,

Որ կան այստեղ ազատ ու քաջ դեռ Հայեր,

Որոնք ի բիւր պատերազմաց թէպէտ խոց

Մէչ ամպրոպաց ի ժայռ կանգուն են կեցէր»:

Edited April 27, 2010 by Arpa