With a deep sense of gratitude to our native land, today we return to him what he was born and nurtured, what he has steadily established for many decades in our time: Hrant Tamrazyan, the supreme chief legislator of our literature, our ethics, our political science, our behavior, a true academician of literature, a 40-year teacher of literature teachers throughout the republic.
The one who had set off from the pyre of the Inquisition with the "Book on the Road" in his lap and the oath in the heart of the young man that he would bring good days for that book, that there would be no inquisitions in his time, and if there were, his friends and himself and any real value would not be burned.
He said to his friends, Suren Aghababyan, Hakob Salakhyan, Vahagn Davtyan, Levon Hakhverdyan, Hamo Sahyan, Paruyr Sevak, Sergey Sarinyan, Sero Khanzadyan, Hrachya Hovhannisyan, and not many others, a beloved generation of fighters and poets who called themselves to the mission of not leaving their time a barren desert, of not turning a blind eye to the future. a mission that today - not in front of this open grave, nor on this great missing occasion, but in front of the entire Armenian cultural horizons - should be considered completely successful, and its apostles, clear-faced and victorious.
The name of Hrant Tamrazyan was woven into my generation and my life together with the name of Gurgen Mahar. he and Vahagn Davtyan together, as they had been together all their lives, with care and affection had brought together in one volume the precious few of Mahari's prose and verse that he had created in his vaivero life of the pre-exilic wild times. then the short coat of one of them sheltered the tall worn man. It was a good book and good manners.
Hrant Tamrazyan stood with this attitude of warm love in front of all Armenians of our history and Armenian literature, from Khorenatsi to today's literature and history, from mythical conversations to the life and people familiar to him and to us, and on the contrary, his antipathy reached the point of open malice and snobbery towards all strangers and foreigners, idiocy and love, towards everything that was not at least a little like his idol, his to god And to weave the image of his god, he plastered his idol from the remains of all our ancestors, nameless and nameless, with the image of his parent, himself and his sons, and with the message of the Book burned in Charents of those distant years:
The ashes of the dead are the strongest passion,
The hardest mortar and the most faithful,
And thus the country becomes a country,
And the people - the people, and the future - the unspoken future.
Indeed, Hrant Tamrazyan had created a country, he was creating a country populated by brave, intelligent and intelligent people like him, and he stood at the border of his country with the confidence of a real ruler. We lose whole worlds with every great one who leaves, passes on. With the passing of Viktor Hambardzumyan, with the passing of that superstar, we lost the universe, we lost the sky, we haven't looked at the sky for a long time, we don't have a star there, with the passing of Martiros Saryan, with the passing of Minas Avetisyan, the world's and our own interest in the great world of painting weakened and faded, so we lost the world again. With the passing of Vardan Achemyan, the same again...
God forbid that our Armenian land be dishonored so much that with Tamrazyan's generation, Hrant Tamrazyan's passing, the new times will not endow new times with his type of man, literary critic and literary historian, scientist and soldier, military scientist, master and cultivator, farmer, farmer, otherwise we will lose the world again, like Saryan, Hambardzumyan, and other greats. back, and perhaps more, because before astronomy, before painting, the country is the motherland in words, and the Hrant Tamrazyans give charge to the words, which, alas, are few and it's a pity that they are leaving.