VISION OF DEATH

YEGHISHE CHARENTS TRANSLATED FROM EASTERN ARMENIAN BY ARAKEL MINASSIAN

  • Որպես լքված թավջութակի ձգված մի լար`

    Դողում է սիրտս կարոտով մի ահարկու.

    Կարոտներիս գագաթն է այն` վերջի՜ն քնար.–

    Մի պիրկ պարան ու երկնուղեշ փայտեր երկու։

    Որպես բախտիս մութ քամահրանքը, կամ որպես

    Մի հին խոստում, որ անկատար, դրժած թողի —

    Կախաղանի փայտերն ահա քաղաքի մեջ

    Կանգնել են, սեգ, ու սպասում են կախվողի։

    Կանգնել են, լուռ իրար կքած, փայտեր երկու,

    Ու մեջտեղում դողում է, մեղկ ու երերուն,

    Մի գորշ պարան, ինչպես տխուր այս օրերում

    Անբոց մորմոքը նաիրյան իմ ո՜րբ հոգու:

    Իջել է շուրջը մի անհուր իրիկնաժամ,

    ՈՒ լռություն մի անստվեր, անդուռ, անդող,

    Ինչպես մորմոքը օրերի, ինչպես դաժան

    Մահվան թախիծը՝ իմ անլուր սիրտը բանտող:

    Ու խանութները, գորշ կքած, ու այն մարդիկ,

    Որ հավաքվել են փայտերի շուրջը հիմա,

    Մահվան բեկուն այդ քնարին այդքան մոտիկ —

    Ի՞նչ են ուզում՝ այդքան տխուր ու ակամա:

    Եվ արդյոք ո՞վ է երազել այդքան դաժան —

    Ու լուսավոր առավոտները իմ հոգու

    Ո՞վ դարձրեց — մի անկրակ իրիկնաժամ,

    Ու գորշ պարան, ու երկնուղեշ փայտե՛ր երկու։

    Գուցե այդ ե՛ս եմ, որ սրտով իմ լուսնահար

    Ո՛չ մի կրակ հեռուներից ձեզ չբերի,

    Ու ցանկացա, որ չօրհներգե ո՛չ մի քնար

    Լուսապսակ, պայծառ գալիքը Նաիրի․․․


    Երթամ հիմա: Ու կարոտով անմխիթար,

    Իմ երգիչի երազներով ու հրերով,

    Անհրապույր իմ օրերի երգով մթար

    Ու նաիրյան իմ երազի վերջին սիրով,—

    Երթամ մարող ու մարմրող իրիկվա մեջ,

    Որպես ուրու հալածական, որպես տեսիլ,—

    Տա՜մ պարանոցս կարոտին այն երկնուղեշ

    Ու օրորվեմ` եղերական ու անբասիր․․․

    Թող ո՛չ մի զոհ չպահանջվի ինձնից բացի,

    Ուրիշ ոտքեր կախաղանին թող մոտ չգան.

    Եվ թող տեսնեն ի՛մ աչքերի մեջ կախվածի,

    Իմ բո՛րբ երկիր, լուսապսակ քո ապագան։

    Թող դուրս ընկած իմ աչքերի մեջ կախվածի

    Նոքա տեսնեն պայծառ օրերդ ապագա,—

    Թող ո՛չ մի զոհ չպահանջվի ինձնից բացի,

    Ո՛չ մի ստվեր կախաղանին թող մոտ չգա․․․


    1920


  • by Arakel Minassian

    “Մահվան տեսիլ” (“Mahvan tesil”—“Vision of Death”) was written in 1920 by Yeghishe Charents in the short-lived First Republic of Armenia. This was a period of uncertainty for Armenia, as the nationalist government of the Armenian Revolutionary Federation (ARF) tried to maintain control over the territory granted by the Treaty of Sèvres, while the Kemalist forces advanced from the west and the Red Army from the north. Armenia was destitute and overrun with refugees fleeing the Kemalist advance and the earlier genocide perpetrated by the Ottoman authorities (1915), and Charents’ “Vision of Death” reflects the anxiety and destitution of this period at the same time as it gestures towards the possibility of a more hopeful future.

    Yet more than simply reflecting his contemporary situation, “Vision of Death” stages an aesthetic turn in the poet’s oeuvre, a turn he hoped would take root in Armenian literature in general. The Armenian genocide occurred at a time when Armenians were trying to redefine themselves. In an effort to separate themselves from the Armenian church, many writers romanticized the pagan, pre-Christian period. Charents himself, along with the poet Vahan Teryan (1885-1920), favoured a more reflective and less certain aesthetic. Teryan’s cycle Yerkir Nairi (The Land of Nairi, 1916) depicted the Armenian homeland as a cloudy, dreamlike place and revived the pre-Armenian name “Nairi.” Charents’ early works also reflect this searching quality. For example, his 1915 poem titled “Kaputachya hayrenik” (Blue-eyed Homeland) renders the Armenian homeland a blue-eyed lover the poet attempts to discover. However, in the wake of the genocide, Charents recognized that the Armenian political and cultural movements of the late 19th and early 20th centuries, including his own aesthetic, were ineffectual in the face of catastrophe, and he was already looking to something new. 

    In “Vision of Death,” written at this pressing juncture, Charents offers himself—the poet—as a sacrifice so the Armenian people might survive and move forward. Still a highly symbolist work, it embodies this revolution through the image of a gallows which is itself a lyre—a quintessential instrument of poetry. In this way, his poem calls for a new aesthetic that sings both the death of the old—through his sacrifice—and calls forth what is to come. The “new” at this point was still in construction, and Charents would go on in the 1920s to write some of the best and most experimental Armenian poetry of the 20th century as he forged a socialist and internationalist aesthetic.

    I am grateful to have had the opportunity to translate “Vision of Death” during Professor Yopie Prins’ translation seminar at the University of Michigan. She and the other members of that seminar were this translation’s first readers, and their comments and suggestions were invaluable to the version published here.

    Yeghishe Charents (née Soghomonian) is the most well-known Soviet Armenian writer. Born in 1897 in Kars, then part of the Russian Empire, Charents began his literary career following the path of his contemporaries, writing symbolist and sentimental lines in search of a mythic Armenian homeland—the “Land of Nairi.” During the First World War, he fought with Armenian volunteers alongside the Russian army and witnessed the Ottoman genocide of the Armenians, at which point his oeuvre became bleaker. Seeing Armenia’s salvation in the Bolshevik Revolution, Charents joined the ranks of the Red Army during the Russian Civil War, and then threw himself head-on into the literary debates of the nascent Soviet Union. Although Charents remained committed to the Soviet cause, his poetry—especially his experiments with futurism—were vilified by the authorities and his fellow Armenian writers as “bourgeois nationalism.” Like many, he was arrested during Stalin’s Terror in 1937 and died under uncertain circumstances. His oeuvre and legacy were revived after Stalin’s death, and he is now recognized as a giant of modern Armenian literature.

    Arakel Minassian is a PhD student in comparative literature at the University of Michigan, studying 20th-century Armenian literary history. His research focuses on how writers creatively and differently engage with Armenian and non-Armenian traditions across locales as diverse as Istanbul, Paris, and Soviet Yerevan. In addition to his scholarly work, Arakel has published several translations and his own creative work in Armenian. His book-length translation of Zabel Yesayan’s 1918 Ժողովուրդի մը Հոգեվարքը (Joghovourti me Hokevarke—The Agony of a People), which recounts the testimony of an Armenian genocide survivor named Haig Toroyan, is forthcoming in 2025 from I.B. Taurus. In 2022, Arakel co-published a book in Armenian called Sahmanakhagh(kh)t—Hayerenn u hayerēně (Border-play: The Armenian and the Armenian), written as a set of correspondences between him and his co-author Anahit Ghazaryan. This book reflects on the growing interactions today between Eastern Armenian—the dialect of Soviet and post-Soviet Armenia—and Western Armenian, the Constantinople dialect that became the standard of many Armenians in dispersion after the genocide, and is Arakel’s native dialect. Prior to beginning a PhD, Arakel also published on contemporary Eastern Armenian literature, which he researched as an MA student. 

Like the plucked string of an abandoned cello,

I tremble with a dreadful longing;

The peak of my longing—a final lyre:

A taut rope and two beams reaching to heaven.

Like the dark scorn of my fate, or like

An old promise I left unfulfilled, broken—

The beams of the gallows stand

In the city, haughty, waiting for a victim.

Two beams, standing quietly together, and

Between them trembles, feeble and wavering,

A rope, grey as the flameless hurt of Nairi

In my orphan soul.

A fireless evening has fallen on the gallows,

And a shadowless quiet, endless and still,

Like the hurt of these days, the bitter

Sorrow of death imprisoning my unruly heart.

And the shops, dejected and grey, and those people

Gathered now round the gallows,

So near that fragile lyre of death— 

What do they want, so sad and reluctant?

And who might have dreamt such bitterness—

And my soul’s bright mornings who made

A fireless evening, a grey rope,

And two beams reaching to heaven?

Perhaps it was I, moonstruck,

Who brought you no fire from faraway

And allowed no heavenly lyre

To announce the bright future of Nairi…


Let me now go. And with inconsolable longing,

With my poetic dreams and flames,

The dark song of my charmless days,

And the final love of my dream of Nairi,—

Let me in that dying light go,

Like a fugitive ghost, like a vision,

Let me give my neck to that longing

That reaches for heaven,

And let me swing, tragic and blameless…

Let no one be sacrificed but me,

Let no other feet approach the gallows;

And let them in my dying eyes see,

My dazzling country, your haloed future.

Let them in my bulging eyes

See your bright tomorrows—

Let no one be sacrificed but me,

Let no shadow approach the gallows…

1920