This is Tumanyan.
You are an unknown poet, unseen until today.
Without words you pour out a song with bright eyes.
I am also lucky to be an amazing reader.
That I read those songs so easily and so deeply.
And this is not Tumanyan - it is Zahrat.
We will sing together with the poet
He sings - we will pretend to sing...
Of course, we poets are the recorders of the divine sound, the reader of the divine text, the decipherer of the divine writing, which is the whole world, and it was necessary that the Tumanian reading of God's text should have its reading, less spiritual, less high and heavenly, more earthly, and that reading would find its narrator in the Western Armenian language and in Polis, where, of course, our princely high nose is best. was crushed.
No longer freed from the temptation to be a nationally significant presence under this sky, unmarked by the power of any country and power and or any mission of our own, and under such an open sky, our nerves are bare and our eyes and ears are so clean, of course, the Polos of Armenian literature was our son, the earth was an anthill and we were to see nameless ants, of course Zahrat would be our whisper and silent behavior of the creature, our literature of course it was used to represent the small and big person, the small and big person would be loved by us with Zahrat. Not with Charents, not with Sevak, not with anyone else of our own or foreign nationality - only with Zahrat.
It's great that the stopped and stopped heart of Armenian literature, Polis, continued to beat under the warm breath of Zahrat, it's great that the Armenian language was not banned in the abyss of modern poetry - it spoke, was understood and loved by Zahrat.