I dedicate this page to the great composer of Argentina, Astor Piazzolla, who gave me much strength when I was in great need. May the Lord God bless him forever.
The Poetry Of Shant Norashkharian From 1988 To 2010
POEMS OF 2010
Astor Pantaleón Piazzolla
(March 11, 1921 – July 4, 1992)
"She (Nadia Boulanger) kept asking:
"You say that you are not pianist. What instrument do you play, then?" And I didn't want to tell her that I was a bandoneon player, because I thought, "Then she will throw me from the fourth floor". Finally, I confessed and she asked me to play some bars of a tango of my own. She suddenly opened her eyes, took my hand and told me: "You idiot, that's Piazzolla!". And I took all the music I composed, ten years of my life, and sent it to hell in two seconds. "
"A critic from the New York Times once said an absolute truth: all the 'upper thing' that Piazzolla makes is music; but beneath you can feel the tango."
"As authors Azzi/Collier say in their final lines, Piazzolla's music speaks for itself, and it is likely to do so in the year 2020, and possibly well in 3000."
Buenos Aires Herald
"There is no equivalent person who played as central a role in jazz as Astor Piazzolla has in tango. Imagine that instead of numerous jazz giants such as Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Bill Evans, John Coltrane, Stan Getz and Miles Davis, there was just one modern jazz hero who was both virtuoso performer and prolific composer. In the world of tango, Piazzolla was just a unique figure."
Gary Burton
Perhaps…
By S. Norashkharian
Perhaps I shall gather your beauty one more time
As I have many times to nourish my veins
And caress you inch by inch with my nose
Following your electric curves one by one
Perhaps I shall gently push your hair back
And kiss your eyes as if I shall never see you again
And whisper in your ears my first poem
Which was written for you before I knew you
Perhaps I shall hover above you like a dove
And bring you the blue peace of the sky
And show you the little flame I kept inside
To remain warm in my icy solitude
Perhaps I shall ask you to dance with me
The first tango which sparked my youth with love
And lift your waist in the air mixed with passion
And the perfume of your red hot breath
Perhaps I shall let my eyes tell you my story
As it cannot be told any other way
And unfold myself like an ancient book
Which reveals each moment I missed you
Perhaps it was better if I had never known you
And took just your image with me to my bed
And kept you inside of me like an eternal melody
Which no one will hear or could hear like me
Dayton, Ohio, USA
January, 2010
"Astor Piazzolla was a musical genius, a man who used the national dance of Argentina as raw material for a whole new musical genre."
María Susana Azzi
There Was A Love…
By S. Norashkharian
There was a love that we had
When we first opened our petals to the sun
And saw little giggling angels
Hovering around us like carefree butterflies
When we did not know yet what it was called
But felt its magic thrill tickling our spines
There was a love pure as a whisper in solitude
And clear as the eyes of a toddler
And glittering like the stars in winter
To comfort us when we feared the darkness
We knew it would never leave us
As the air which was there before we could breathe
There was a love made from the music of colors
Which played with the light and gave us joy
We did not know how to hug or kiss
Yet we could feel its warmth just by holding hands
And we did not seek for harmony or peace
Because they were there like the music before us
There was a love which gave us golden wings
So we never fell down or had a bruise
We spoke to each other in the same way
That we spoke to ourselves in our hearts
We knew that all we saw around us
Was of our family and our own blood
There was a love that remains to this day
Yet only like the fragrance of the jasmine
Which was long ago in the corner pot
To remind us that if we called it now
It would come and embrace us like an old friend
And show us again how sweet life could be
Dayton, Ohio, USA
January, 2010
"So bring us the bandoneon man of Argentina
Let him make music from our poems
Bring us the tango man and ask us to dance
As if gravity was kidnapped just for this night!
Bring us the burning warmth of Piazolla
Who gave us the youth we lost searching for love
When lust was mixed with sweat and perfume
And time was ordered to stay outside!
O Gentleness pass the bandoneon around
So we can welcome the gypsy and drink his joy
And keep the civilized men away from our tables
So passion can feast without their guilt and laws!"
From my poem Only A Heavenly Gift Of Grace! (2005)
"I want you to know
one thing.
You know how this is:
if I look
at the crystal moon, at the red branch
of the slow autumn at my window,
if I touch
near the fire
the impalpable ash
or the wrinkled body of the log,
everything carries me to you,
as if everything that exists,
aromas, light, metals,
were little boats
that sail
toward those isles of yours that wait for me."
Pablo Neruda
"It was your precious gift of love and the power of its touch,
Which made me able to behold beyond the world I knew, my dear."
Attar Neyshapuri, Persian Sufi Muslim poet (1145-46 – c. 1221)
Sleeping Peasants, Picasso
Tango By Argentinian painter Fabian Perez
Tango II By Argentinian painter Fabian Perez
You Are Part Of Me Now...
By S. Norashkharian
“You are part of me now
You touched me,
With your kindness and love
So enchanted.
Your soft lips are kind.
Your eyes glow with life.
I'm glad you touched me,
You are part of me now.”
Lloyd Carl Owle
Cherokee Poem
You said you do not want me to touch you
But I already touched you with my words
And they will be part of you forever
Even if you walk away like all the others!
You are part of me now…
I already touched you when I called you in my sleep
And you let me taste the ecstasy of your essence
Dripping in my mouth like honey in the garden of Eden
Until I was overwhelmed with deep deep serenity!
You are part of me now…
I already touched you when I lifted you to the sky
And danced with you every time I heard the tango
Perhaps you did not know that you were with me
But the music was playing just because of you!
You are part of me now…
You said you do not want me to touch you
But the way you inspired me will never leave me
As you made me welcome my youthful love again
And cry on all the years I lived without you!
You are part of me now…
I already touched you because your smell never left me
And it fills my lungs every time I miss you
And the red dress which barely covered you like a veil
You will still wear it every time I remember you!
You are part of me now…
I already touched you but I do not have you
As you were afraid to look into my depth
So instead of your kindness I only have your pity
And the bitterness of all that was and is you!
You are part of me now…
Dayton, Ohio, USA
January, 2010
“Thousands of candles can be lit from a single candle, and the life of the candle will not be shortened. Happiness never decreases by being shared.”
Buddha
The Snow
By S. Norashkharian
She falls so quietly as not to wake a sleeping baby
And embraces all like a mother equally
As she spreads her white skirt tenderly
Certain to be admired by all who waited for her!
Yet in her whiteness is also her coldness
And in her glamour is her indifference
Yet she stirs the solitude of my captive roots
And urges me to search again for my home!
She bathes herself with the glory of the moon
And reminds us how pure we can be
As she gives of herself to the thirsty soil
Certain to even die to give birth to spring!
Dayton, Ohio, USA
January, 2010
From my window
How Can It Be…?
By S. Norashkharian
How can it be how can it be all empty
The existence which is so hard to carry
How can it be confined to the waiting rooms
Where we exchange each day with its tomorrow?
How can it be that we forget that just now
In this second and only with this next breath
We have the choice to live or to wait to live
How can we miss our only chance to become?
How can it be how can we be so alone
And the only one handful of living dust
In an endless galaxy of ice and fire
How can it be that only we wait to die?
How can it be that a journey to the peaks
Does not bring us any closer to our dreams
How can it be that we can paint our own world
But we cannot move ourselves where we belong?
How can it be how can it be so distant
The existence which we would have picked ourselves
How can it be that we never had a choice
To rest our heads on another ball of dust?
Dayton, Ohio, USA
February, 2010
Mar Del Plata, Argentina, where Astor Piazzolla was born
My Little Ones…
By S. Norashkharian
"I saw a thousand wild lilies on the meadows of life
A thousand children in the true wind
Beautiful strong children who breathe out kindness
And know how to gaze at the deep horizons
When music raises the islands"
Odysseus Elytis
(1911-1996)
Where have you been my little ones of spirit
I have waited for you so long in my woods
And made a trail only for you to follow
With the scent of the food only you will crave!
Leave your old tribe which does not know its own face
After it was allured by each foreign flag
Come to the home which welcomes and honors you
And shelters your legacy from their disdain!
Of you flows out the milk for all the new kings
Which you will share with all as with all blessings
So do not wait like girls who seek perfection
As their charm may ferment and die with their dreams!
Of you are made statues which give direction
After you live as an exile among mobs
So grab your staff and claim your right to command
For leaders break when they bow down and not stand!
Of you are made hammers to crush old podiums
For you will teach only with acts of kindness
So raise your voice to wake those drugged by dogmas
As the world is full of wars caused by blind faith!
Of you are made the rays of light which travel
Through the ages and bring sacred messages
My little ones do not linger in darkness
You will fade soon if you lose your will to shine!
Dayton, Ohio, USA
February, 2010
All Who Have Forgotten Me
By Shant Norashkharian
"I quit the country that nurtured me.
A city could be made of all who have forgotten me."
Joseph Brodsky(1940-1996)
Yet how many times I passed over this city
Like a cloud which was too heavy to sail
Searching for thirsty and welcoming lips!
And how many times I slept outside its doors
Waiting for someone to recognize me
And accept what I have become by not becoming them!
This city which propagates its nothingness
Like decaying algae sucking all the oxygen
While it suffocates itself and all within its reach!
This city which imposes its insanity
Of chasing the dream while living the nightmare
On all those who sell their time to the highest bidders!
This city where lust pervades all thoughts
While it promises all and takes away all
And where passion must burn itself alive!
This city where none of my friends lived
And where none will ever live as long as it stands
Yet it is full of those who have known me!
How many times will it still count me in its census
When only my shadow moves behind its walls
And it honors only those who have forgotten me?
How many times will it spit on my offerings
And hound me with the arrows of its clocks
When I am absent even from this age?
Yet there is a city beyond the river
Which awaits for me with trumpets and feasts
And children who offer kindness instead of flowers!
There is a city where all directions lead
And where I shall wear the beauty which is denied to me
Like a morning gown woven from the pink dawn!
There is a city where time stops and life begins
Upon the highlands where my honey flows
Waiting for those who will never forget me!
Dayton, Ohio, USA
March, 2010
"We, unaccustomed to courage
exiles from delight
live coiled in shells of loneliness
until love leaves its high holy temple
and comes into our sight
to liberate us into life."
Maya Angelou
The Dead Fly
By S. Norashkharian
"It's painful and difficult, the living don't meet my need
first because they do not speak, and then
because I have to ask the dead
in order to go forward any further."
George Seferis
(1900-1971)
Yet we cannot sit on the side of the road
As the night falls and not just one meets our need!
We cannot freeze our anxious gaze like lizards
On horizons which move farther from our reach!
There was a time we knew how to be alive
And honored our hearts for speaking inside us!
Yet now we slide on window panes like a fly
So busily buzzing toward the fake light!
We have no time to ask the dead who we are
So we keep on moving in all directions!
Yet all of them will lead us to just one place
Which will soon be called the gulag of the globe!
We are certain yet unaware of each step
As we follow the feudal lords with laptops!
As long as we move we think we are alive
So we have not learned even from a dead fly!
Dayton, Ohio, USA
April, 2010
Deep Inside Of Me
By S. Norashkharian
I crave for you deep deep inside of me
Where you must have been and no longer are
Yet now I carry your absence with me
As the only part of you that is mine
Yet my whole being tells me you were there
Like a limb which has been amputated
Who are you and how did your magic spell
Implant the chaos of your ecstasy
In my consciousness as if it was real?
Who gave you to me as the rarest gift
Which must have traveled from some other world
To give me the will to take my next breath?
I believe I have even touched you once
As if connected to a high voltage
Facing the danger of being destroyed
I touched you like a little naive child
Who could not resist to light the matches
And hold the power of fire in its hands
Deep inside of me my years have robbed me
From the innocent memory of you
Yet the hollow space which you carved in me
Is where I have found my sanctuary
Which is even now filled with the fragrance
Of the purest love I have ever known
Alas! there was none of all those I craved
And not even you who kept me captive
Who could see the pearls deep inside of me
Alas! the beauty I could have embraced
Is flying farther like a lost balloon
Into the twilight where I shall meet you
Dayton, Ohio, USA
May, 2010
Nude Woman from Behind
William Etty
So Tenderly...
By S. Norashkharian
So tenderly your memory creeps on me
Not to stir this rare moment of renewal
As my senses surrender to receive you
By the fountain which springs for you within me
So tenderly like a distant violin
Which plays your song every time I call your name
And gives me flight in spite of the gravity
Which pulls me down more and more year after year
So tenderly not to waken the dull pain
Of my longing to hear your heart pulsating
When you kissed me so intensely and deeply
As if you wished to consume my sanity
So tenderly now your spirit watches me
As I search the vacuum you left in my bed
Perhaps I must never love as I loved you
Or believe that one just like you could exist
So tenderly your memory creeps on me
Like summer waves which were just warmed in the sun
As my senses surrender to the rare joy
Of knowing that you cannot not be with me
Dayton, OH, USA
June, 2010
Beauty
By S. Norashkharian
“And a poet said, ‘Speak to us of Beauty.’
Where shall you seek beauty, and how shall you find
her unless she herself be your way and your guide?
