Hovhannes Toumanian
Hovhannes Toumanian Poems
The Crane has lost his way across the heaven,
From yonder stormy cloud I hear him cry,
A traveller a'er an unknown pathway driven,
...
O shining stars!
Eyes of the night,
Glowing ardent,
You smile so bright.
...
'Neath a hazel's green, gathered in a ring
Sat the men of age, who had known life's sting.
They sat them around,
Stooped on the ground,
...
The high-throned Abul and Metin mountains
Back-to-back in proud silence stand,
Holding high on their mighty shoulders
Parvana—a beautiful ancient land.
...
Beside the laughing lake of Van
A little hamlet lies;
Each night into the waves a man
Leaps under darkened skies.
...
The way was heavy and the night was dark,
And yet we survived
Both sorrow and gloom.
Through the ages we go and gaze at the stark
...
For forty long years I follow one path,
Straight and fearless
Ascending
Towards a bright world, the Holy Unknown.
...
Armenian grief is a sea,
A fathomless, boundless main.
In that dark expanse drifts my soul,
Mournful, in mortal pain.
...
It started up, our true Chalak,
Raced across the mountain flank,
On and on through the darkened wood
With my bold brother in hot pursuit.
...
Come hither, poor and gentle folk,
Lend an ear and listen well.
A wandering bard from distant parts,
A wondrous tale will I tell.
...
Sweet comrade, when you come some day
To gaze upon my tomb,
And scattered all around it see
Bright flowers in freshest bloom,
...
From early days I turned my gaze towards the vast unknown.
In heart and mind I soar above the abyss, intent and lone.
...
The little children wept and wailed;
Heart-rending were the tears they shed.
“Mamma, mamma, we want our food!
...
The Armenian grief is a shoreless sea,
An enormous abyss of water;
My soul swims mournfully
On this huge and black expanse.
...
Rising from ocean, billows uncontrolled,
With heavy flux and reflux, beating high,
...
O say, from what remoteness do you hail
Sirius, mighty traveller of the sky,
What is the haven to which you sail
With speed untold
...
And I stood up, so that
In keeping with our ancestral laws,
I may read a last prayer
On the hapless victims of my nation,
...
Hovhannes Toumanian Biography
Hovhannes Tumanyan was an Armenian author, public activist who is considered by many to be the national poet of Armenia. His work was mostly written in tragic form, often centering on the harsh lives of villagers in the Lori region. Biography Hovhannes Tumanyan was born in February 19, 1869 in the village of Dsegh, which was part of the Tiflis Governorate of the Russian Empire, and now is located in Lori Province of Armenia. His father was an offspring of an Armenian princely family of Tumanyan (branch of the house of Mamikonian) and the village's priest and his mother an avid storyteller with a particular interest in fables, Tumanyan had incorporated many of the themes from his mother's stories and his father's preachings into his writings. He was also a great master of quatrains: As You take the blessings You gave me since life began, I look to see how many are left till my race is run Amazed am I: You have given so freely, with generous hand; How much must I yet return till I merge with You into one? Tumanyan is usually regarded in Armenian circles as "All-Armenian poet". He earned this title when the Catholicos of Armenia had ordered that Armenian refugees from the west not enter certain areas of his church and house, since he is considered to be "The Catholicos of all Armenians". Tumanyan in response decried that decision claiming that the refugees could seek relief in the Catholicos' quarters under order of "The Poet of all Armenians". He created lyrics, fables, epic poems and translations into Armenian of Byron, Goethe and Pushkin. Legacy Tumanyan's native town of Dsegh was renamed Tumanyan in his honor from 1938-1969. In 1951, the village of Dzagidzor of Lori Province was renamed Tumanyan There is a statue to Tumanyan in Freedom Square, Yerevan. In Autumn of 2011 the government of Armenia purchased the house of Tumanyan in Tbilisi from its Georgian owner. The keys of that house are currently kept at the Writers Union of Armenia. A museum will presumably established in this house.)
The Best Poem Of Hovhannes Toumanian
The Crane
The Crane has lost his way across the heaven,
From yonder stormy cloud I hear him cry,
A traveller a'er an unknown pathway driven,
In a cold world unheeded he doth fly.
Ah, whither leads this pathway long and dark,
My God, where ends it, thus with fears obsessed?
When shall night end this day's last glimmering spark?
Where shall my weary feet to-night find rest?
Farewell, beloved bird, where'er thou roam
Spring shall return and bring thee back once more,
With thy sweet mate and young ones, to thy home
Thy last year's nest upon the sycamore.
But I am exiled from my ruined nest,
And roam with faltering steps from hill to hill,
Like to the fowls of heaven in my unrest
Envying the boulders motionless and still.
Each boulder unassailed stands in its place,
But I from mine must wander tempest tossed
And every bird its homeward way can trace,
But I must roam in darkness, lone and lost.
Ah, whither leads this pathway long and dark,
My God, where ends it, thus with fears obsessed?
When shall night end this day's last glimmering spark?
Where shall my weary feet to-night find rest?
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