ARCHITECT ABEL ARTSATBANIAN, researcher of construction art. The abbot of the Great Mother Cathedral monastery of the ruined city of Ani MIKAYEL VARDAPET, friend of the architect. SIMON, the servant of the monastery. SHOGHER, Simon's wife. ABEL, the son of Simoni-Shogher. wandering blind ASHUGH, the GRANDSON of this. You don't know whether it's the hay auction, the Catholic Great Mother Cathedral vow, or the villagers who came for the auction and the vow at the same time. BOY GROUP, GIRL. GUUGHATS OGHEVAZAR, BORDER GUARD TROOPS OFFICER. ALEXANDR BAHATRYAN, ALEXANDR TER-SARGSIANTS: young architects, members of the commission interested in the work of Abel Artsatbanyan, SHVEDOV NIKOLAI VASILYEVICH, Orientalist-Armenologist, SEMYON ARGHUTIF-ARGUTINSKY, head of the commission, VARVARA TUMANOVA: a noblewoman, the bride of Bahatryan, patron of art, can be called ORIORD KARETSANK, heir of a rich man from Tiflis, ANTON ATABEKOV, half-patriotic, half-drunken, a group of armed boys dressed in red.
Annie, 1914, one of the first days of July.
A group of armed boys dressed in red came at night, lit candles here, kissed the abbot's right hand, held his voice and sang his song of revenge and hope, then each one separately and all together said the oath I swear the word and went to be buried in the darkness of the night, the candles were burning, then it was light, and the architect and the abbot were in the vestibule of the basilica monastery, which was their abode, the architect was looking out the fresco, the abbot was watching his work, Simon, Shogher and the boy were at the porch door, Simon was imitating a khachkar, Shogher was making a sock, the child was cleaning an old sword with a piece of pumice stone.
The vestibule, the Great Mother Cathedral monastery, the courtyard between them, where the simulated khachkar stands.
ARCHITECT: How the Turk's seal sang, holy father! I can't get enough of the dog girl's voice. What a beauty it was, holy father, the tablecloth, the husband dressed like a prince, the horses and himself. And how she sang, how the dog girl sang.
FATHER: Of course, he saw that he had an audience and he sang well.
ARCHITECT: No, holy father, she was singing for her husband.
FATHER: It's a woman, isn't it, it's a grace, isn't it, she noticed out of the corner of her eye that we were listening.
ARCHITECT: Ah, he had noticed it out of the corner of his eye. The husband, the horses, the song, herself. Holy Father, won't you remember what the crow was singing with your voice?
FATHER: Of course, the song was good, the horses, the willow, the tablecloth, but more than that, it's time to marry you.
ARCHITECT: It's a bit early, holy father, and who are we talking to anyway? There is something more than the song, the song, the bread, the beauty of that whole day, that suffocates a person: understanding the superiority of your enemy, the murderous superiority of your enemy. Put that rope around your neck already, because, all the same, madness and madness will strangle you. Look at the wife of a Turk! The caravan goes, the train goes, but she sits and sings to her song, she has nothing to do with the rest of the world. just as their bread is in front of them - their share of beauty is in themselves, they have nothing to do with the rest of the world. The illiterate seal of the Turk. I am also an architect, I put cotton in my ears and consciously - consciously - do my job. whatever is there is this, there is nothing better anywhere else, this is what is. But every train call, like a fifteen-year-old girl, my heart jumps out of place, as if life is passing by and I'm thrown into a corner. It's me too.
FATHER: Heart palpitations are good, it means your coronation time is approaching.
ARCHITECT: You speak to be spoken.
FATHER: What else was there to say that I didn't say?
ARCHITECT: Say: the human doll went to the mountain, sat down to eat, the wife sang - and the husband was beautiful, the horses were beautiful, the passing train was beautiful, standing in the field we were beautiful and thanks to one song we have been beautiful for a month.
FATHER: It was beautiful from a distance, an architect, if we were to ask and if they told us, there would be an unhappy, heavy story underneath. like a wandering lamp in the darkness of the night. it approaches, it leaves, it goes up, so it is on the hill, it disappears, it goes down the valley, it appears again, so it wanders in the night and it is beautiful. Then he comes closer and the ownerless goats of the tired villager are lost.
ARCHITECT: Yes.
FATHER: In other words, the tiger raised its paw.
ARCHITECT: Yes, let's get back to our rock. The tiger from Bagratun raised its paw. Tiger - Subordinate, Raised - Subordinate, Paw - Issue. The tiger is a problem, the paw is a problem, Bagratunjat is a problem. The tiger raised its paw - the tiger did not raise its paw. The tiger raised its paw - why? Under the paw, what? Under the paw, our poverty. The tiger from Bagratunya has raised its paw, with a ball under its paw. What ball? Earth. It was. Holy Father, has the tiger raised its paw?
FATHER: Raised?
ARCHITECT: The line says yes.
FATHER: The line says yes, so the tiger has raised its paw, the line does not say yes, the tiger has raised its paw again. Go away, Lortsik say: I am trembling standing next to you like a willow, don't be afraid.
ARCHITECT: Holy father - in your humble opinion, has the country ever been a sphere for Armenians?
FATHER: In my humble opinion, that is, in my ignorant opinion.
ARCHITECT: It didn't happen. In all these years of our friendship, when have I told you the right thing?
FATHER: You have nothing to do, go take a picture. At first it was a ball, then it was flat. then it was round again, then flat again. in the tenth century, the Bagratun region was a sphere, and in the fifteenth, on the contrary, it was flat. Now it's a ball, drive away.
ARCHITECT: Simon - Simon, what do you say, is the earth round or flat?
SIMON: According to Vardapet, it is a sphere, an architect, but what if it were a pit, something like a toaster.
ARCHITECT: Live! Light a cigarette in your toaster.
FATHER: The Bagratunis weren't kidding.
ARCHITECT: We are not kidding either. We draw the globe under the paw of the Bagratunya tiger, from Uchkilise to Gharakilise. Simon, have you seen a tiger, a tiger?
SIMON: Our great uncle told how Kurdish shepherds were seen in the valleys of the Tigris.
ARCHITECT: I draw, holy father, but this does not happen in Armenian.
FATHER: It is in Turkish.
ARCHITECT: Maybe in Turkish.
FATHER: That emblem stone was carved in the land of the tigers and brought to the land of the sheep.
ARCHITECT: I don't know. (Brings the child, gives Simon's wrapped cigarette to the architect). Simon: The veil is falling apart.
SIMON: Spit it out, architect, spit it out!
ARCHITECT: Our saliva doesn't stick, Simon.
SIMON: Give it to the holy father, architect, the holy father sticks well.
FATHER: A tiger is a cat to a buffalo, an architect, but it kills a buffalo. Weak, lifeless, dead, the tiger lies down for weeks. During the jump, the tiger collects the forces of weak, lifeless time, hits and kills a buffalo and again, weak, lifeless. I say, the leaping tiger also throws the future powers to the buffalo, and so after defeating the buffalo, the tiger remains weak, lifeless. It took, and the Bagratunis consumed our powers for future ages as well.
The sun rises in the east and travels westward. The truths of Ecclesiastes are under the sun, and the sleeping peoples under the sun are waking up, and the awake peoples are falling back into slumber under the sun.
ARCHITECT: I will draw a tiger with a raised paw, a ball under the paw, the earth. From Gharakilise to Uchkilise.
FATHER: (Against the map) From Gharakilise to Uchkilise - it was as much as today's Russia. From the Tashrats world of Gugark through the Varazhnunik world, the Nig world, the Aragatsotn province - they went down to the Ararat world. Bagratuni's two were balls, ours were flat! Say the Bagratuni tiger is a cat, and the Bagratuni tiger will become a cat. Don't say. Say the Bagratuni tiger is a tiger, holding the globe under its paw, and the Bagratuni tiger will become a tiger. The mind is not something empty and empty, equal to a stone, place the mind and weigh it. the mind is born, exists, dies, like a stone or a man. The language of the people says: what you enter is what you find. Never mind how ugly it is.
ARCHITECT: I don't think, I draw what other people think. If there was a photography tool instead of me, it would do this job better than me.
FATHER: I would grab your photo tool and force it to take pictures in Armenian. Who are you mad at, what do you want, that's it?
SHOGHER (to Simone): Sit down and click, click, click, click. (Locomotive whistle). The train arrived.
SIMON: Architect! (Son) Tell the architect the train has arrived. Architect, the train has arrived. The train arrived. Let's see what news the train will bring for us.
SHOGHER. The train arrived. When will you put me on the train? Let's get on the train, let's go, let's go, let's go - Simon, where does the train go? (Locomotive whistle). The train passed. The train came, the train passed, you sat down and cluck, cluck, cluck. Your cross will not become a cross, and the grass remains to be cut.
SIMON: My herd will starve to death this winter.
SHOGHER. We would mow the grass, collect it, stack it, sell it in the springtime, we would have a cow for ourselves - Simon - We would take a train, go-go-go-Simon, I'm not saying we should go to live in Paris. Simon, let's go see Paris and come back.
SIMON: Yes, Paris heard that you are such a kind, compassionate, understanding, extravagant girl, they want to see you. Gentle, feminine, understanding - you lit a candle in front of others...
Partially posted. You can download the full version (pdf)