Читать книгу Poems of Yeghishe Charent - Charents Yeghishe - Страница 3

Our language is flexible and barbaric

masculine and rough. At the same

time keeps an inner light, a lighthouse

lit with an eternal flame.

Honorable, ingenious craftsmen

have carved its ancient stones

for centuries, so they shine

like crystal. Sometimes weather blown

mountain rock, always with its own

animus. Today, it is by design,

if we chip it, to stop rust

from settling on our minds.

Neither Narek's rustling parchment

nor Toumanian's bright Lori-grown

dialect can sheathe its modern spirit

-not even Derian's silken tone.

But wait. From the iron harvest

our new language will be honed

to hold the deep and homesick thoughts

that are ours, ours alone.