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ܳõáõÝ ÃÇ»ñÁ
µ³ñ³Ï »Ý
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ÎÁ Ãdzí³ñ¿
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Ðáë³ÝùÝ Ç
í»ñ, Ñáë³ÝùÝ
Ç í»ñ -
à’ã Ãǽ ÙÁ
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ÏÁ Ó³ÛÝ»Ýù-
-îÕ³’ë, DZÝãáõ
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¹ÇõñÇÝ ¿
Ðáë³ÝùÝ Ç
í³ñ ÁÝóݳÉ...
ܳۿ’, ÇÝãå¿ë
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Ô»ÏÁ µéÝ»É
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- ºë Õ»Ï ãáõÝÇÙ,
Õ»Ï ãáõÝÇÙ
ÎÁ ·áã¿ ³Ý
Ñ»õÇÑ»õ
- Ðáë³ÝùÝ áõÅáí
¿, áõÅáí
ºÃ¿ Ó·»Ù‘
Á ï³ÝÇ...
Ø»Ýù ÏÁ
ݳÛÇÝù Çñ
ûõ»ñáõÝ
ÂÇ»ñáõÝ »õ
Ñáë³ÝùÇÝ
-
γ’Ù ÍáíáõÝ
¹¿Ù ÏÁ ѳÛÑáÛ»Ýù
γ’Ù ÍáíáõÝ
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Ëûëù ÏÁ µ³Ý³Ýù
Ú»ïáÛ Ï’³éÝ»Ýù
ÏÁ ù³É»Ýù... |
THE BOAT
There is a boat on the sea,
It is small and light.
There is a boy in that boat,
A skinny, little boy.
The oars are thin,
His arms are delicate.
He endlessly rows
Against the tide, against the tide,
Moves neither forward nor back,
He endlessly rows.
We shout to him from the shore,
–Son, what good are your efforts,
Don’t you see, it’s so much easier
To let the current carry you...
Look, how others pass you by,
Just hold on to the helm...
–I do not have one, I do not have one,
The boy exclaims wearily,
–The current is strong, it is so very strong,
If I let go it will take me...
We look at his arms,
We look at the oars, at the current–
And we curse the sea,
Or spit into it,
Then drop a few words about destiny,
And we each go our own way... |
| |
La Barque
Sur la mer il y a une barque
Une barque petite et légère.
Et dans la barque il y a un garçon
Un petit garçon tout maigre.
Les rames de la barque sont petites
Les armes du garçon sont fragiles.
Et il rame sans relâche
A contre-courant toujours à contre-courant
Ni en avant ni en arrière
Et il rame sans relâche
On lui crie du bord de la mer
- Mon petit à quoi bon tant d'efforts
Ne vois-tu pas qu'il est si facile
De naviguer dans le sens du courant...
Regarde les autres comme ils te devancent
Il te suffit de tenir la barre
- Je n'ai pas de barre, je n'en ai pas
S'exclame-t-il à bout de force
- Le courant est fort, il est si fort
Si je lâche il m'emportera...
Et on voit ses armes
Ses rames et puis le courant -
Et on s'emporte contre la mer
Et puis on crache sur la mer
On s'acharne contre le destin
Et puis et puis on fiche le camp
|
Several years ago, the Tekeyan Cultural Association
had a celebration in New York City, honoring the
75th anniversary of the Armenian writer and poet
Khachik Dashtents. I took part in the evening,
interpreting two songs that I wrote using the
lyrics of his poems. The text of one of 
these
songs, Armenian, which I adapted into the form
of an anthem, is included in all handbooks of
Armenian literature published in the Diaspora.
The audience greeted the song with great enthusiasm.
I believe there were two reasons for this. In
the first place, its message exhorts students
to speak Armenian in the countries where it is
threatened with disappearance; and in the second
place, I sang it with a little choir of young
girls who presumably have gotten the message...
