Showing posts with label Tatul Sonentz-Papazian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tatul Sonentz-Papazian. Show all posts

Saturday, January 15, 2022

Hamazkayin Canada presents a reading

HAMAZKAYIN Canada presents

a bilingual reading of Daniel Varoujan's 


SONG OF THE BREAD

with a new translation by Tatul Sonentz-Papazian

SUNDAY, November 21, 2021 at 2:00PM EST


 Click to expand


Thursday, July 24, 2014

Tatul Sonentz: Then And Now…

We were there
and our here and now
was always there
mocking tomorrow
bedecked with desire
festooned with time
to spare …
 
We  were there
even when time was rare
to be where our love
could face the morrow
with youthful stare
and never blink
or despair
 
even when
our here and now
decked out with care
was still there…
alas unaware
that you and I were
no longer a pair
 
………………Tatul Sonentz
2014


 

Thursday, July 17, 2014

Tatul Sonentz: SOUNDS

The sound
of disturbed silence
heard before you arrive
is my soaring heartbeat
and squeaky shadows
in fast retreat…
 
The beat
Of a racing heart
you hear as light sweeps
the room when you  are here
Is my very own answering
The rising rhythm of
Your own…
 
The moan
of silent solitude
after your departure
is my very own which
I alone can hear
when you are
gone…
 
……….. Tatul Sonentz
2014

Monday, April 07, 2014

Tatul Sonentz: Deir Ezzor…

 
               
In this desert
where nothing grew
but silence
disturbed only
by the wind that shifted
the sands of time
and the dunes of eternity
whose gaping gates
then opened wide
to receive the remains
of those who had witnessed
the very dawn
and the redemption
of humanity…
 
In this desert
where the sun bleaches
the very soul of all things
alive with the breath
of life and will of God
walked the skeletons
of those who used to be
man woman and child
father mother sister and son
now an endless spread
of human carrion
an infernal feast
for vulture and jackal
and manlike beast…
 
In this desert
far from the highlands
the ancient seed of Haik
was burned as incense
to the glory of Bel and Cain
who slew Abel and fled Eden
to plant and grow blades of sin
in the blood soaked
soil of the east
birthplace of a sun
now heading ever west
in its futile journey
in quest of a place to rest…
 
In this desert
there are no cranes
soaring serene above a land
whose tillers have been mowed
felled by the scythe
of hatred and greed
of crimson dreams of empire
like a rising tide
flowing red from east to west
and back to a mythical east
of Ergenekon
foaming with fury
in a savage rampage
to a final conquest and lasting glory
of the crescent moon
reflected in a sea of blood
flowing from sacked highlands
covered with gore
and scorched fields
to the searing sands of this place…
 
This desert
Where no crane on the wing
ever hovered over a dune
to answer the strangled call
and silenced quest
of news from the quick
and the dead
whose bleached bones
now call for loving hands
to touch them
with the promise of a place
of eternal rest…
 
 
---------------------Tatul Sonentz
April 24, 1995

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

Tatul Sonentz: SHOWTIME…

Come one  come all
Come one-and-all
Come and see
This death-defying act
Featured in bright cosmic lights
Across the dazzling marquee
Of this traveling circus of
Ever expanding, ever elusive
Big Bang’s Motion and Sound
Star-studded program
Introduced today by a gaggle
Of hilarious creationist clowns
This seven-day wonder miracle
Full of raucous belly laughs
Of swift burning meteors
Of instant romance
And scorching satiric strife…
Come one  come all
To the only show in town
Come and witness
This preordained accident
With no survivors…
This ultimate crash pile up
On the crowded highway
Of death-defying life
………………. Tatul Sonentz
2014

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Tatul Sonentz: CAPITAL IDEA


in oak paneled rooms
designer suits raise glasses
tinkling with ice melting
in single malt and close a deal
and like mangy dogs in heat
money sniffs and follows money
into dark vaults of glass and concrete
temples like the one where once
a young carpenter thrashed
money lenders and was absconded
sacrificed at countless missa solemnis
and fed as sacrement to repenting accountants
and such kneeling in cross-topped temples
of stone mortar and stained glass
through which the Sunday sun strains
descends with the holy ghost in colorful bits of light
on gucci clad wives no longer virgin
bearing diamond and blood red ruby crosses
around ample necks wrists ankles
shackled and fattened with mouthfuls of faith hope
and charity doled out in fetid favelas
around yuletide by armed deacons as alms
to knife club curse bearing mendicants
bereft of faith hopeless loveless
now bursting at the seams
of a globe gone mad
 
……………………………………tatul sonentz  

2013

Thursday, April 11, 2013

Tatul Sonentz: Letter to Hovsep



 
When beheaded
on your native soil
on a bright April day
by those with dark souls
whose brood still do worship
gray wolves on moonlit nights
you were a much younger man
than my sons–your own grandsons
whose blood was spilled that day
long before they were born…
 
That – we’re told – is our yesterday
that never was or ever happened
to be banished from memory 
and to be interred in haste
with your severed head
in the name of today
as the pack of gray wolves
howls a lewd dirge of sublime
rapture and joy at the final burial
of all recall of their forebear’s crime…
 
      * * *
 
Allow me to call you Hovsep
since I am your elder now
and in my mind you are
and will forever be
the young father
of my mother
loving husband
of my grandmother…
Hovsep--my faceless
headless silent forebear          
forever spouse and parent
yet a mute and blind memory
    …of a lost grandfather.
 
------------Tatul Sonentz
2007

Thursday, November 22, 2012

ԹԱԹՈՒԼ ՍՈՆԵՆՑ: ԱՐԵՒԱՄՈՒՏ

Մայրամուտին
Էդ ծառն անտէր
Տերեւաթափ ու միայնակ
Կանչում է ինձ քամու
Ձայնով...տաղ է ասում
Հին օրերի ջահէլ սիրոյ
Բորբ բառերով...

Յանգող յոյսի
Շիչող լոյսի
Էդ թէժ ժամուն
Շիկանում են ճիւղերը հին
Բոց են դառնում
Տերեւ ու շիւղ
Մինչ ցուրտ քամին
Ձայնը սրած կաղկանձում է
Առանձնութեան
Հին մեղեդին...

Մթնշաղին
Արեգակի յուշով կանգուն
Էդ ծառն անքուն
Վաղուց գունատ տերեւների
Ու ծաղկազուրկ պուրակների
Կորած գարունն է
Որոնում...


Wednesday, May 16, 2012

Tatul Sonentz: Butterfly

 
A butterfly
With wings white
As two snowlakes
Fluttering together
Joined in that ecstasy
Of a single winter day’s
Endless Illusion of eternity
Landed on your shoulder
On that warm spring day
As I held your hand
In mine and said
I love you
 
………….Tatul Sonentz
2012
 

Wednesday, February 22, 2012

Tatul Sonentz: SIXTEEN…

To Ani



When?
When did
Sixteen springs
Turn you into a swan
Gliding on the blue waters
Of time that seemed
Eternal at the time…
Yet waits for
No one…

Only yesterday
I held you in my arms
Light as a feather, sweet
As the gentle breeze
Of early springtime
And timeless
Sunshine…

When?
When did
Sixteen springs
Turn you into
A swan?


Tatul Sonentz
2012

Friday, October 21, 2011

Tatul Sonentz: Dream Boat

In the blue shadow
of the pyramids at Giza, 
a shallow, open grave in the guise
of museum displays a solar boat,
a ship of royal hopes, dreams
of a cruise to immortality...


A dream boat of the soul, sailing
by faith in stars, soaring with the sun,
now becalmed in a sea of sand and silence, 
sails neatly tied to a mast laid to rest
after a journey through millennia
to a place beyond distance,
beyond eternal quest,
beyond history...


I do know that place,
I played as a child in the sands
of its time, drank the water
of its timeless river, slept
in its sun and -- in a host
birthplace -- I dreamt
of my own space.


Tatul Sonentz


Appeared in the Spring 1999 issue of Ararat.

Thursday, June 25, 2009

Tatul Sonentz-Papazian: The Call (to Neda)

26-year-old Neda Soltan was killed during a protest in Iran earlier this month. The video capturing the last few minutes of her life was watched by millions worldwide.

On a summer day
in this ancient land
where a pagan sun
once reigned supreme
in a merciless encounter
between hope and fear
in the eternal sphere
of creation—
on the streets of a city
torn between what was
and what is to be—
between Adam
and Eve—on the eve
of a new dawn you ventured
forth with childlike candor
holding the hand
of destiny…

You wondered for whom
the shots were meant
as your chest exploded
and you fell…
your wide open young eyes
turned to the skies
to the fading light
of a silent sun
seeking an answer
to the divine thirst
for a sacrifice—
a burnt offering
on the blood soaked altar
of freedom of the soul…

Your unuttered call
yet to be heard
is suddenly silenced
by a pierced heart
bleeding on the dust
of a long road paved with pain

leading to the final abode
of the human spirit
in its quest for peace
in an Eden without bars…

You are home at last
nestled in a million hearts
that witnessed in your demise
and your frozen gaze
the surging triumph of light
over darkness.

(2009)


This poem has appeared in the Armenian Weekly in print and online in June 2009.


L’APPEL

C’était un jour d’été
En cette terre ancienne
Où, suprême, un soleil païen avait régné
Sur l’implacable lutte
Entre crainte et espoir
Dans le cycle sans fin de la création
Dans les rues d’une ville
Combattant ce qui fut pour ce qui devait être
- Adam combattant Eve –
Tu es venue curieuse, avec des yeux d’enfant
Pour voir l’aube nouvelle,
Ta main dans celle du destin
Tu te demandais qui méritait qu’on tirât
Quand la poitrine ouverte par une balle, tu tombas
Tes yeux jeunes d’enfant
Se tournèrent, grands ouverts,
Sur le soleil muet qui s’éteignait au ciel
Et voulait cette offrande…
Offrande calcinée sur un autel en sang
Des âmes qui s’envolent
Ton cri interrompu
Mais sitôt entendu
D’un coup fut englouti par ton cœur qui s’ouvrait
Saignant dans la poussière
Du long chemin pavé de peines
Qui nous mène 
Au sanctuaire de l’âme
De l’être humain en quête
De paix dans un Eden ouvert et sans barreau
Tu es enfin chez toi
Nichée au fond du cœur
D’un million de témoins
Qui ont vu ton décès
Et ton regard figé
Est le flot de lumière
Devant l’obscurité.

Tatul Sonentz
Traduit de l’Anglais par Nanehlala 

Monday, June 01, 2009

Tatul Sonentz-Papazian: Captive@limbo.com

The other day
A laptop won me
In a raffle
Until then
My lap had favored
Softer bottoms
And carrot-tops
Now I spend
Most of my time
In virtual life
In a cosmos called
The internet
With a machine
In my lap
As the drama
In the limbo of a
Growing hard drive
Unravels
In endless acts
With rare
Intermissions
For food sleep
And the touch
Of flesh
Smell of flowers
Or the sweet
Sorrow of
Love.

(2009)
This poem has appeared in the Armenian Weekly, May, 2009.