By Rouben Sevak
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
Who was to erase the memory of that afflicted night,
Which I buried far away in the sands of a remote shore?
There, in the dark, in front of me, a disconcerting sight,
The old cedar tree on the street and the bare seashore.
And who told that woman, at that hour, there, all alone,
In her white garments, with arms crossed on her chest,
To move her frail shadow ahead of me, crying, forlorn,
With fiercely sweet looks and so woman-like depressed…
So much joy since that time, so many smiles and laughter,
Endless debauched masses of boundless love and passion,
And so, so many women with their myriad enticing banter.
Yet, she is there! In my chest, the crying woman, unsparing,
She suddenly passes sobbing mournful through the night,
And the darkness is there, beneath my chest, swelling, swelling…
Who is to wipe clean the memory of that afflicted night…
Tatul Sonentz-Papazian
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