from Unpeopled Language
Krikor Beledian
(Number 11)
they have not
lost—river and reed—
their sometime beauty
there up the hill
by turns
the sky
green blue
by turns orange
without obstacle
to the unyielding horizon
and those lavish lines of black collapse
lacking memory’s hold
lacking crime’s offense
from nothing barely born breathless to the world
wiped clean
some shrubs perhaps foretell a kindly spring
a film of ash perhaps a mold-encrusted comb
dust only black dust to the sky and a dawn
that burns traces of extinction’s end
but how?
and when?
and what place on earth
denied you forever the light of land and home?
they have not
lost—river and reed—
their sometime beauty
there up the hill
by turns
the sky
green blue
by turns orange
without obstacle
to the unyielding horizon
and those lavish lines of black collapse
lacking memory’s hold
lacking crime’s offense
from nothing barely born breathless to the world
wiped clean
some shrubs perhaps foretell a kindly spring
a film of ash perhaps a mold-encrusted comb
dust only black dust to the sky and a dawn
that burns traces of extinction’s end
but how?
and when?
and what place on earth
denied you forever the light of land and home?
translated from the Western Armenian by Taline Voskeritchian and Christopher Millis