T H I R D E Y E

ԵՐՐՈՐԴ ԱՉՔ

Nine years have gone by
Since I damn well jilted you…
Now, is it century, year, moment?
I cannot tell…
I cannot tell,
Because afterwards,
Time, as such, ceased to exist,
Only hours,
Hours survive,
heavy or light,
And, thank the Lord’s foresight
In setting on man’s
And animal’s face
Only two eyes --
In my hours
There is no third – or middle one,
And if there were,
That third eye
(or the middle hour)
It would conjure either
A cyclopean idol
Or a monster…
My third eye --
What is it to do,
When with your two
It forms only
A triangle with a three
On each side,
While the three angles
Measure thirty
degrees
(three threes amount to one
Ordinary nine…)
Nine years have passed
Since that day
I jilted you,
My self-satisfied you –
And had no doubts
After that –
Have not doubted
Mentally, that is,
While you -- do you know
This thing called heart?
This creature,
This godless being --
How able it is
To exist without benign
Or malevolent doubt!
And since you
Are clueless,
And since you
Have entered
Only lately
My real delusion,
And since I sense that
You don’t even
Know the date
Of our severance –
Why am I still
Putting up with blame
And pangs of conscience
As to why
I did let you go
Nine years ago…

I kept it brief.
As for the rest,
Try to remember
And do not dump
On me as ‘most proper’
The steel-hard screams
Of self-flagellation.


VARAND
Translated By: Tatul Sonentz