MOUSHEGH ISHKHAN'S POETRY

( 1918 ______ )

TO MY MOTHER

Translated from Armenian by Daniel Janoyan
Nicosia, Cyprus, March 14, 1983

Without a fatherland and without a home,
Without love and without faith,
Having lost all treasures,
I am still an offspring with no inheritance.
But as a last divine name and a last living good
It is only you, O mother, that I have in this world.

You are our entire home indeed,
You are eternal just like our past,
You are a treasure never decaying

And good tidings that keeps ringing.

You are a mystic spring of light
For our centuries abundant with life
And whose ardent fall down gave faith to my life.
Since the day I was born you were a heroic mother and a father to me.

Just like Jesus you were an entire love to me —
Unrevengeful and never ending —
O mother, I present to you my entire life
Cause I know along with my smile, you smiled
And along with my tears, you cried.

And in return as an unworthy son of yours what did I give you instead?
Nothing but terror, torture and soul-destroying bitterness.
The songs and smiles of my heart I carried them to others,
The dark clouds of my fortune, I brought home with no mercy.

And if I am still able to pass triumphantly through this world
It’s because of your prayers and your spirit that keep me strong forever.
But under what sword will my hopeless dreams fall?
It will be the day when, O mother, you leave me and depart from me forever.



 
 
PRAYERS OF AN ARMENIAN GRANDMOTHER

Translated from Armenian by Daniel Janoyan
June 20, 1986

It is enough, O Lord, take us back to our lands and homes,
And even don’t let the enemy wander around like us.
To the animal you give prey and to the birds a warm nest,
While to the innocent, O Lord, give a corner for them to dwell.

Let the rich and the king enjoy palaces and all,
But, O Lord, make us worthy of our nameless cottages only.
There is no rest nor sleep under foreign terraces cold,
More than seven days indeed you should never anybody host.

Let your blessings, O Lord, befall on our provisions again,
So that foreigners may eat from our abundant tables again.
Along with our longing hearts old prayers have also gone dry,
Without that noble incense which kept smoking for Your name.

Laughters resemble cries when one’s house doesn’t echo
And tears become humiliating when there is no garret window.
Make it such, O Lord, that each hearth begins within his holy home,
Never going off like a candle when confronting life’s wicked wind blows.

Make it such that each in his own turn suddenly
Feels on his shoulders the load of his burden sweet.
Let the parents of the young see only the homes of the fatherland
And the aged in their homes close their eyes eternally.



 
THE ALIENATED CHILD

Translated from Armenian by Daniel Janoyan
Los Angeles, March 20, 1991
 
With a troubled heart, poor and very miserable,
And with my walking stick in hand and very confused,
I returned to my homeland once again
After being alienated for many years.

Because of life’s heavy burden I had my back bent,
And my mind lost and very confused.
I returned to my homeland once again
After crossing seven mountains and seven seas.

At the village entrance, I saw my childhood friend,
My very close friend and with a longing heart
I ran towards him and said, "Hello friend, my dear friend,
Don’t you remember me?"

But I had changed so much! He couldn’t recognize me.
With my walking stick in hand I walked into the village.
I passed by my lover’s house and saw my love with a rose in her hand
Standing alone next to the door. I said,
"Hey sister, for the sake of your beautiful face
Am I worthy of your greetings?"
She also did not recognize me. I was very poor and all very dusty.

With a troubled heart I arrived at our house,
Where I saw my poor elderly mother. I said,
"Mommy, I am a passer by, will you give me shelter for tonight?"
My precious mother threw herself on to me.
She kept hugging me and all the way crying,
"O, my dear one, my dear strange son, is that really YOU?"

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