If in general we are able to rule over our passions, obsessions, then Vahagn Davtyan led his life as a person, figure and poet according to the law of the golden ratio well known to architects.
In him, relationships with people and phenomena were based on the law of the golden ratio or were based on the law.
No scholar and scientist can testify to his weakness as a scientist, no poet can testify that his element was less fierce, no editor can say that he ever published a braver newspaper or magazine, no one can boast that he was more sensitive to personal or national pain, and on the contrary, we all agree that the most scientific of us is the scientist, the bravest of us, the bravest of our fathers, he never, nowhere, never He did not burn either his right or his left bank.
The permanent presence of the peaceful force did not allow him to be a rebel and rioter. Moreover, under the auspices of his great elders, his excellent tribe, his idea of the tribe, he cherished and adored everything that brought this people's republic into harmony with the historical mission of this nation - be it the two successful lines of an anonymous person, the rising height of the Armenian generation of teenagers, the curves of the arches, the discos of the singer, or the uprightness of any official.
He and his generation were condemned to spiritual barrenness, they had to leave a spiritual desert behind them, because it was so ordered from above, because the rulers of thought and force in their book reserved them only a marginal presence from the beginning, according to Charents, they had to embroider the darkness of the sky.
- Like a genius girl
Embroider the darkness of the sky.
But they, that Charents, that Paruyr, that Hamo, Vahagn, Silva, that Shiraz and the whole generation, founded and flourished the very spiritual garden.
They were called, like our old calligraphers, to decorate the main text, but they turned the margin into content, the faceless Armenia motherland, the nameless man, took refuge in the margin, and the great book of the past seventy years is valuable today thanks to the margin.
And glory to him and his generation.
In his restrained, powerful, sober presence, no one's mouth moved once to crown him with a word of praise, and only now, taking advantage of his silence, let's say:
How big, what a black hole is the place he left - the place of the poet and the place of the figure, the refuge of the entire cultural heritage and the refuge of all living vibrations.