MISAK METZARENTS

  (1884-1915)

  BIOGRAPHY AND POEMS

  * Biography compiled by Shant Norashkharian *

"For what is your life? It is even a vapor, that appeareth for a little time, and then vanisheth away."

                                  

                                           Bible: New Testament. James 4:14. 

"Life is hardly more than a fraction of a second. Such a little time to prepare oneself for eternity!!!"

                                            Paul Gauguin

  

  

After the age of 10 he started developing a passion for writing and reading.

At the age of 16 he dedicated a collection of his first poems to his teacher of literature. On his 19th autumn the disease became more advanced and his final 2 years became his most creative period. He published his two volumes of poetry at the age of 20, the first titled "Rainbow" and the second titled "New Songs". Almost a century after his death Misak Metzarents, the Armenian John Keats (who published his first poems at 22 and died only 3 years later also from tuberculosis), is almost unknown in the world.

Love Song

     By M. Metzarents (1886-1908)

* Translated from Armenian by Shant Norashkharian *

With her golden and delicate hair like rays,

when she proudly passes the road fast like light,

something from my heart becomes mass to the flame

of her eyes where I forget the sun itself.

Dreamlike and so delightful like a flower,

whenever she smiles from behind the window,

flights in my soul longing for light then take wings

with the mad dream of the blues so far away.

And when she sings with the violin which shivers,

the gentle and lyrical song of the night,

it seems as if her glowing eyes are looking

at the feverish moment inside my soul's waves.

   Separated Hearts                 

By M. Metzarents (1886-1908)

* Translated from Armenian by Shant Norashkharian *

Panting breaths now come around

and we smile with our delight;

a unique blue from the sea

and infinite sky is born.

And fragrances come around,

an effortless liveliness,

with drunkenness of sorrow

softens the wound of the grief.

My soul has joy of vineyards

and the chirping of the birds;

my soul is a sleepless harp

whose songs don't have any pain.

* * *

Like a dream they went away

and the years have slipped by us

from the day when the hearts felt

the shock of separation.

Sometimes a teardrop of pain

troubled me with restlessness;

other—m times a greenish hope

glimmered by my soul's darkness.

After the separation

truly, with what love, what joy

the hearts embrace with the thirst

for the delight of union!

* * *

My dreams have been swaying me

with a peaceful wavering;

from far mountains and valleys

I always gaze steadily

With wandering hopes of mine

for your waving imminent,

with zest I wait your coming

in rejoicing of the songs.

My soul has joy of vineyards

and the chirping of the birds;

my soul is a sleepless harp

whose songs don't have any pain.

         Come          

By M. Metzarents

* Translated from Armenian by Shant Norashkharian *

Come, to paci—mfy my wearisome life,

let me feel as well affection and hope,

there will come a day your soul will lament

the fast elusion of this dream of light.

Come, you may perhaps wither tomorrow,

and my soul may die with longing fever,

do not let feelings of my worship fade.

Let me drink the pure flame of your glances,

Come close, delicate flower of my life,

Let me in a kiss forget everything.

Ah, this lovely life is so slow-moving,

come, melt the boredom of my soul away;

give me a burial in a dream of light,

Bring me the virgin caress of your heart.

Having been diagnosed with the first signs of tuberculosis in his teenage years and eventually dying at the young age of 22, the Armenian poet Metzarents often wondered about the mystery of life and how our existence on this earth is so short and elusive. He wanted to love and he fell in love not only with women but with almost everything else: The sea, the sky, the stone, the hills, the birds. He was a romantic to the core and he expressed his lyricism with such beauty that is sometimes unequaled in modern Armenian poetry.

Born in a small village in Western Armenia (now occupied by Turkey), Metzarents attended the local school where he was regarded as a weak student.