Dear Vazgen, certainly a minister and certainly a general.
Ten years ago, as a thirty-year-old writer, our power as writers would definitely have reached your height: whether we create the leading character or Christ was created by the evangelists and not the other way around, whether Marzpetuni was born from Muratsan and Vardan from Yeghishe and Demirchyan.
A huge mission for the writer and literature that you bypassed, dear Vazgen. the jealousy of your youth and the ambition of your writer did not keep you on the hills of our new Avarair - they brought you down to the battlefield and you made a warrior and a commander out of yourself. It wasn't like that, it doesn't happen like that, it can't be like that, it's at least egoism, it's only given to the unique ones to be like that. Many of us would like to do so, but you were the first among our constrained ranks to change legs, and the mist of heroism of the myth materialized in the form of Vazgen Sargsyan.
An enviable age and an enviable figure, dear Vazgen.
After decades, your unbroken courage will surely allow you to observe these days of our heroism and decline from the height of time and bring to the panorama the effort of the undying, moving people, because no one among the able pens, living souls had your courage to see and know as much as you, dear writer, friend general, Mr. Minister.