Irreplaceable loss. Pion Hakobyan, one of the most stable residents of our spiritual homeland, left the arena of our literary and scientific thought, the borders of our spiritual homeland, the upper spheres of our conscience and morality. In his absence, we will be a little more negligent and unscrupulous towards our work than we were during his life, our honor in front of our national past will be a little less and humble, dispassionate and lifeless than it was during the life of that united farmer and cow warrior.
He was a believing soul, he saw himself as a pilgrim remembered by Abovyan and distant ancestors, and under the breath of that believing soul, that conscientious gatherer, the past of the homeland was certainly a living present to touch, disturb, embarrass, dare. There was no past for him. the past and the past are dead past only in front of powerless views, only weak thoughts, the diligent work of the tribal cultivator endowed his mind, strengthened his view, to re-grow the past of the motherland into a purely scientific, purely research training like philology, alive today, if not yesterday, we will say today. "Who are you raising your sword at?"
We can only hope that alive, still alive, we can be what Pion Hakobyan was and do as he did his work, hope, because that type of person and scientist is more than a necessity among us today, and because we are made of the same flesh and blood, and the motherland is the same.