For verse junkies – your weekly fix of poetry

The Armenian Weekly

September 30, 2006

R E D T H O R N S

It was morning when she left,
leaving me with an entire night.
There was no yearning~Wwhen she
left me with memories in the bud.
Was she soft, coarse~Wornament, or a rose?
She was still dewy, as she took off,
leaving me with red thorns~E

* * *
A single seed planted by love
can cool down entire infernos,
One single drop of a lover~Rs tear
can turn a desert to ocean.
Eons may come, eons may go,
Varand, your songs carry on,
imparting fire to frozen hearts,
and cooling seared ones~E

* * *
A drop of wine imbibed when injured in love
is a flame shot up the arm, a bribe
To silence a lover~Rs suicide~Wa gory blade.
It is tears of sobs caused by love~Rs pain,
Or, when it reaches the tip of the pen,
it is~Wif you will~Wink,
a quatrain~E

* * *
As you know, a burn on living flesh smarts
and hurts with agonizing pain~W
Intolerant, sensitive even to the caress
of a soothing, gentle breeze~E
Imagine then the pain of a heart scorched
by the flames of searing love~W
as the victim sighs: Burn me!
Burn me again!

Varand
Translated by Tatul Sonentz

R E J E C T I O N

Mediterranean blue eyes,
Sunshine in her hair, like resurgent
Phoenix…
My own hands that rebuffed the nude
maiden of Lebanon ~W
What makes them feel so upright…?

They should have set her bare breast alight,
Infused breath into her coral fingers… yet
With their haughty Armenian hubris,
They merely unbuttoned her garment…

Soaring Mediterranean moment ~W
Wings of Phoenix roasted by a reborn sun…
Silent words of disdain to a maiden
of Lebanon
What makes them sound so proper…?

They should have been a sweet whisper
at her silken ear.
Soft caresses on her satin brow… yet,
With the arrogance of an ultimate oath
They asked her to leave~E to forget…

* * *
A mere Mediterranean morning…
And a nagging yearning for the
paternal roof.

Varand
Translated by Tatul Sonentz