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“Prodigal Son”, by Eduard Hakhverdian

Author
  • Lilit Keshishyan

How to Cite:

Keshishyan, L., (2017) ““Prodigal Son”, by Eduard Hakhverdian”, Absinthe: World Literature in Translation 23. doi: https://doi.org/10.3998/absinthe.9487

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Published on
2017-10-26

Peer Reviewed

I

Now, when
  The city’s crooked and blemished face
  Is coated in white anguish,
  And in each fold of the brain
  Exists a cruel mania of lethal saws. 
  
  Now, when
  The temple’s domes
  Are fused with white mist,
  And the unsuspended crosses
  Blessing nothing
  are bolted, motionless, in the air.
  
  Now, when
  In the gardens of paradise
  The trees of our childhood dreams
  Topple mercilessly,
  And the dismal chimneys of painful moans
  Quickly burn
  The asteroids of our fragile souls
  Reducing them to smoke and soot.
  
  Now, when
  The gray wolf’s bloody paws
  Insatiably scratch
  The roofless expanse of
  A glorious history, 
  And the rising tree’s branchless morality
  Slowly rots
  Waiting for no victims . . .
  
  Now, when
  The white anguish
  Snows from the soul’s sky
  Onto the dark streets of noxious days,
  And phantom hands of terror
  Paint black crosses on houses,
  And the houses are encased in iron bars,
  And the trees are encased in iron bars,
  And slowly
  With a cold, arachnoid silent patience,
  With the insatiable mania for steel and metal,
  Our souls become barricaded
  And the weapon,
  denying its bankrupt mission,
  in the heights of vulgarity
  stabs
  the bloodless belly of a dying justice.
  
  Now, when
  In lethal darkness of the houses
  The crippled, crazy,
  gray masks
  unflinchingly watching
  through the shattered mirror,
  Are tortured.
  
  Now, when
  The moan,
  The cry,
  The wail
  
  having become an iceberg
  clogged
  in the strained vocal chords
  Oh, don’t ask, don’t ask
  How
  Anchored like a sphynx
  I became
  PRODIGAL SON

II

The white roofs,
  The white trees,
  The white streets
  Don’t witness winter.
  This is an omen of torn masks,
  This is an omen of a kind of payment,
  This is the omen of a sweet joy,
  This is the omen of self-discovery.
  
  The torment of the white anguish
  From the soul’s abyss,
  Like the boulder of Sisyphus,
  Rolls infinitely
  From Spring to Winter,
  From Winter to Spring,
  And our portion of life’s joy,
  Is the delight of the color of the mountain’s rock,
  
  The unnamed flower’s luminous charm,
  The flapping of the unknown bird’s wings
  Planting grief in the garden of memories,
  Is the charm of the word,
  In glide of speech,
  The liberation of the paint,
  The delight of the color on the canvas,
  And our portion of life’s joy
  Is seeking truce with the bombs,
  Is the panic
  Of having lost the thread of our salvation
  In the labyrinth of uncertainty.
  In grandiosely making sense of
  Our uncertain, meaningless days
  In the noisy taverns
  In the madness of the grapes
  In the message of silence
  
  It is the
  Punctual
  Provision of survival coupons
  Every hour,
  Every day,
  Every year,
  Every season
  It is in plugging with our torn bodies
  The open barrel
  of Pandora’s
  disasters,
  and malice.
  
  It is in the pleasure of coffee
  In a dark corner
  With the pipe of patience.
  It is in illuminating, with the brightness of love,
  heaven and hell,
  Chaos, purgatory,
  The Beginning and the End,
  In becoming the wick in love’s lamp,
  The blending of all matter
  With the matter of love,
  
  Because the portion of life’s joy
  Is the joy of Sisyphus,
  And the boulder of our suffering
  Is cast in the valley,
  And the boulder of our destiny,
  Is cast in the valley,
  And the boulder of our daily life,
  Is cast in the valley
  And our portion of life’s joy
  Is our slow and steady
  Approach to suffering,
  Our luminous perception
  Of our life and destiny,
  Our luminous,
  Luminous,
  Neglect
  Of our life and destiny.

III

  Oh, winds, vulgar and blind . . .
  My father came in, his head shaved, he didn’t curse, he didn’t show anger
  and didn’t request compensation for innocence. The black saliva of blind anguish strewn on the cell wall, he quietly gathered the gold chain of silence and silently departed, his heart bursting with yearning and a blood-choked cry.
  Oh, winds, vulgar and blind . . .
  	His eye on my eye, his lips on my lips, his heart on my heart, he stood, perplexed and dumbstruck. He didn’t complain, didn’t scold, and having left the sack of laughter at customs, he sprinkled his laughter’s last crumbs as dots of life and departed. And he didn’t hear the silent explosion of my wounded heart, and didn’t see, the heavy procession of trains over me, always without me on board.
  Oh, winds, vulgar and blind . . .
  	How many thousands of flowers and grass, how many thousands of cuttings and trees where did your hellish laughter shatter, break, blow away, from these dark and heavenly shores.
  
  Oh, winds, vulgar and blind . . .
  	What kind of harvest is this on Spring’s doorstep? What gale of mourning is rushing up, destroying the apricot tree of our awakening.
  Oh, winds, vulgar and blind . . .
  

IV

Now, when everyone is prepared for escape
  Now, when everyone walks around with their suitcases,
  Now that the centuries old staff of exile, with a kind of wizardry has turned
  into a magical wand,
  I,
  As winter’s only fuel,
  And the only ointment for nerves
  strained like a bow,
  tear apart Anahid’s portrait, far from aesthetics,
  tear apart the unsent love letters
  for Anahid, far from aesthetics,
  And many other canvases, far from aesthetics,
  And many other books, far from aesthetics,
  And many other papers, far from aesthetics,
  And next to the fireplace, blushing with shame,
  I sing the saddest song of winter
  about warmth.
  
  Everything is heading towards vanity,
  Everything is heading towards vanity.
  
  Countless steps descend from the sky
  And the tanks with the trail of blood tulips
  Head toward the east,
  And the soldiers,
  Shivering like leaves in the wind,
  With backpacks of death
  Head toward the east.
  And the doctors,
  Weighed down by Hippocrates’ heavy hat,
  Head toward the east.
  And painters,
  And poets,
  And scientists,
  And those who are volunteers,
  And those who haven’t had the chance to flee,
  With the trail of blood tulips
  Head towards the east,
  And the mania to kill,
  The fever to kill,
  With the will of the high ranking lords
  Becomes the only target.

V

I don’t search for anything in the trash pile . . .
  I was flying in my dream while singing all the moments of my life, I have torn the cocoon of hopelessness to flying in the light of faith. Who, again, has cast a net on the blue? Who has nailed my wings to the cliff?
  I don’t search for anything in the trash pile . . .
  I have, without pain, left my blooming flowerbeds so that I can make the flower growing in the rock’s crevice, the only thing to lean on . . .
  I don’t search for anything in the trash pile, but here, on my breast, the yellow flower, opened in the heart of the trash heap, glitters like a pin.
  I don’t search for anything in the trash pile . . .
  

VI

Again, I bow to your grass
  To your every flower and stone,
  And “not-being” is never an issue,
  And the answer is as simple
  And as sharp
  As the path of the unswerving bullet
  From barrel to temple.
  
  Like fish caught in your net
  We are still fluttering, still flapping
  Don’t can us like sardines
  In coffins
  For the sake of shutting the jaw of the multi-mouthed earth.
  
  Yet another winter,
  Yet another spring,
  Yet another summer—
  And the ubiquitous falling of leaves
  And the caravan of failed days
  Like a dagger
  Cutting our existence to pieces
  Incessantly revolves
  Around circle of the four seasons.
  
  Oh, don’t take me,
  Don’t take me
  To the red-grassed pastures
  I don’t want to see the massacre of the tulips . . .
  And “not-being” is never an issue,
  And the answer is as simple
  And as sharp
  As the path of the unswerving bullet
  From barrel to temple . . .

Eduard Hakhverdyan is a poet, translator, and painter living in Armenia. His poem “Prodigal Son” provides a literary reflection on the harsh circumstances that plagued Armenia after its independence from the Soviet Union in 1991. Often referred to as the “dark years,” the period between 1992 and 1995 is marked by the literal and symbolic darkness faced by Armenia due to fuel and food shortages caused by energy blockades, war, and a failing infrastructure. As translator, I was tasked to communicate the visceral quality of Hakhverdyan’s words and tone into English and capture the concurrent hopelessness and resiliency of its speaker. Similar to Hakhverdyan’s other works, “Prodigal Son” uses the personal, the literal, and the specific to effectively communicate a collective, and indeed universal, account of desperation and survival.

Lilit Keshishyan