- from The Color of Pomegranates
for Sayat Nova and Sergei Parajanov
Before the monastery in Haghbat
prior to the Persian invasion
and death’s black end
that finished my singing
I was the master of song
my love a passion overflowing
the vessel of our lives
birthing poetry
Harmony realized through
creative energy
my beloved books
become the tools of your seduction
Handmade poet’s lyre
turning the inlaid handle
tuning my instrument to your key
each strum upon the body
brings me closer
to the essential
You work the threads of my childhood
Its color and aroma
into the lace of your purity
through you I discover my grace
A gentle wind streams silk
I am the wandering nightingale
burning this white rose for you
water flows over stone
in the Turkish bath of my desire
‘I am careful with your mouth, you speak in fables…’
We players now imbibe love
skipping, drumming, whirling
as we empty our vessels
‘How am I to protect my wax-built castles of love
from the devouring heat of your fires?
You are fire, your dress is fire.
We were searching for a refuge for our love;
instead we found the land of the dead.’
Prodding the lion with a stick
the vultures eye orbs
life’s fragility a globe of glass
tossed in the air, harbinger of
midnight horses and animal hides
antlers and barren branches
Peacock drinks from your lips
muskets fire above your still breast
your death cements my longing
spurs me along the path
lined with stained rubies
The walls of the mausoleum
preserve the tattered ash
of my words
you exist only here, abandoning us
an encaustic imprint
of the dramaturgy of color
Memory shifts the frame of consuming passion
moves me with its rhythm
you wove the lace of death
its visage conceals my pain
your shells upon the black vase
Death obscures your almond eyes
I cannot recognize you
or see my image reflected within
The peacock cries in the window
I will follow you through the black door
though I am cloaked in your colors
I am forbidden to enter now –
blind to the source of my life
I wait for the Persians
‘Who took my mind? I did not see the magician.’
Sayat Nova was an Armenian poet/troubadour (1712-1795) born Harutyun Sayadian in Tiblisi. Sayat Nova means ‘master of song’. His wife, Marmar, died leaving him with their four children. He was killed during the Persian invasion. All quotes are translations of his poetry. Sergei Parajanov was a Soviet Armenian film director. His film The Color of Pomegranates is based on Sayadian’s life. He was banned from making cinema for 15 years following its release for putting aesthetic concerns over ideology.
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Chromapoetica 
Anna, this was a really fun read. I love the fact that you seem to have a knack for re-introducing artists to the modern day, it’s great for me as I am always looking to check out those I’ve yet the privilege of experiencing their work, so it’s quite easy, all I have to do is hop on over here and either a new post will have something for me to look into or just peruse your archives until I find something. But as for this piece itself, i love how there’s a feel of two distinct tones, conveniently separated by the middle picture. The first two stanzas I thought were very good openers but the gentle wind stanza and the majority of those underneath that middle picture are just flat-out incredible. Thanks for this piece, definitely another artist on my To-do list:)
Yes, this was an odd experience taking a poet whose work was translated into film and then working with a portion of the film to create poetry. Thank you for your feedback, the other person I handed it to today read it several times and handed it back blank faced (not too encouraging). I figured I’d go with my own instincts and post it anyway.
This is glorious and beautiful in all ways, love, song, death and a plethora of perfectly crafted lines to present it, what is not to like?–okay, I’m gushing. The first six stanzas(esp the sixth) I was holding my breath because I was hypnotized into the next line without pause. than you for putting a photograph there so I remembered to breathe. In the continuing, ever sadder stanzas, I love especially the little almost throw-away lines, the path lined with stained rubies, the lace of death, shells upon the black vase, that cinch up the thoughts and images on the theme. This is one of the most frightening lines I’ve read, and saddest, truest
Death obscures your almond eyes
I cannot recognize you
or see my image reflected within
Fine work here, Anna. Your instincts were sound.
Oh Joy, if you’d come back blank faced I would have burned it for sure. Yes, those lines about death were straight from my core. The film is full of symbolism which I’ve interpreted wildly perhaps but I wanted to trust myself in writing this piece. I watched the film this morning and found I had to write something in response. Usually I wait longer to process art before creating. I may not have adequately conveyed my gratitude for your reading, comprehension and treasured compliments. Truly, you’ve done me a great service today.
Feels like listening to a haunting voice from another time, the first half speaking of a beautiful life of art and love, and then the second part after the picture, things seem to turn tragic and dark. Love the way the scene and mood is painted.
Thanks Ravenblack, yes I’m glad all that came through. I hope you’re linking up tonight :).
Your poem is a vivid gateway
to a whole culture of words and images.
The film itself is expressed in creative works.
It feels like travelling, time and place
discovering the patterns of other people.
The books on the roof are restless like birds trying to fly.
The shell feels like a chamber, a heart, a rose.
There was a tension between the idea of a poet
as a person of voice and song and the silent performance.
i wonder what Marmar was like.
Thank you for the portal.
Yes, the world of Eastern Orthodox Christianity in the 1700s was the context of Sayat Nova’s life. Thank you for calling the poem a vivid gateway, it is a wonderful compliment. I too wonder what she was like to inspire such magnificent love poetry from her husband. Great to see you Janet, thanks for reading!
Your works always create their own reason for existence, there own reality, This is what is amazing about a really good novel, short story or poem. It is its own universe!
My, that is a cherished compliment that will fuel the creation of many poems, thank you.
Wow..utterly beautiful Anna, from the beginning ‘and death’s black end, that finished my singing,
I was the master of song’ : i love how you bring forth their voice, singing through the aeons, becoming a veil into now, the cadences sound from such a time (impressive!), there is a dreamlike reality to this voice, but somehow that makes it even more real, and after the picture, it is as if, you speak with them, through them, and they hear you..even though for now you are ‘forbidden to enter’, and ‘await the Persians’…really love this poem..(& makes we want to read them too!)
Gosh, coming from a writer as marvelous at creating beauty as you, this means so much. ‘A veil into the now’ is poetry itself. These are all the things I’d hoped to accomplish in this piece so thank you for elaborating them! Thank you again for your marvelous poem, Rosetta Stone.
oo la la…i like some really nice textures to this…I am careful with your mouth, you speak in fables…i also like the how do i protect the wax built house of my love from your fires…the allusions to instruments….this is really good stuff….me likes
Thanks Brian, I took some liberties in translating his work that I thought worked best for the flow of the poem – happy to hear they entice. I always appreciate your comments and I know I probably say this every week but also for creating dVerse. It’s a marvelous gift you all give to us!
Wonderful imagery. It was almost as if I were there, sniffing the fragrances in the air, sensing the lovers passion and the love of his words that drove his passion too.
What a fabulous read. Whomever it was that gave you a blank look, maybe don’t love words for, only true lovers of our craft could understand this gift of yours for, it truly is a fabulous gift Anna.
A really, steamy, heart-breaking, emotional ride of a read.
Thank you, I did feel a bit as if I was lost yesterday. That maybe my thoughts about art were muddled instead of clearer after watching Parajanov’s work of groundbreaking cinema if the poem wasn’t affecting. After writing the poem I discovered a connecting point between the director and writer. Apparently Parajanov’s first wife was Muslim and she converted to Eastern Orthodox Christianity to marry him. She was murdered by members of her family for converting! It added another layer of depth and explained some of my fascination and need I felt to create art in response. I appreciate your feedback immeasurably.
another awesome write anna with so many good lines that i don’t even start to cite them…just one…smiles…The peacock cries in the window
I will follow you through the black door
though I am cloaked in your colors
I am forbidden to enter now -…this felt like pure magic…
(i’ve by the way added a video recording to my poem after some mentioned they’d like to hear it read…)
Oooo pure magic, thanks Claudia and I enjoyed your video very much! Thank you again to you and the team at dVerse, we’re really fortunate to have you.
wonderful write…you transformed us to another time…great lines!
Thanks, I’ll be by to read what you’ve been up to soon.
wow an amazing write anna! thanks for opening my eyes to Sayat Nova… watched the video as well!
Thank you Anthony! I’m happy to hear you watched part of the film through the video so you get a sense of Parajanov’s approach.
so beautiful, almost enchanted.
Loved 🙂
Thank you, enchanted, that’s a lovely way to put it :).
You really took me on a journey with this one, such a fable like presence to this verse, even more than usual I’d say. Really pulled out all the stops and like you take on the word play, really can’t say enough about this one, truly well done. Had to have a rhyme, at least one time..haha
Thank you Pat for the little rhyme and encouragement! It’s wonderful to hear you were transported.
This is a wonderful poem. This stood out for me:
“Prodding the lion with a stick
the vultures eye orbs
life’s fragility a globe of glass
tossed in the air, harbinger of
midnight horses and animal hides
antlers and barren branches”
The sounds are great here not to mention what it says.
Joanne, I pay a lot of attention to sound since I’m a composer so I appreciate your attention to it in the verse.
A very intriguing write – thank you for the history lesson. Such strong imagery and word choice throughout.
You’re welcome, always glad to intrigue you.
I enjoyed the simplicity of expression in this one, especially
A gentle wind streams silk
I am the wandering nightingale
burning this white rose for you
water flows over stone
in the Turkish bath of my desire
‘I am careful with your mouth, you speak in fables…’
Thanks for the interesting read!
Yes, that’s one of my favorite parts too; thanks for the read and comment Charles.
Your knowledge knows no bounds, it seems. Just how much is locked away inside you, sweet Anna? Always learning when I visit. Such beauty and sadness throughout. And, these lines…
‘How am I to protect my wax-built castles of love
from the devouring heat of your fires?
You are fire, your dress is fire.
We were searching for a refuge for our love;
instead we found the land of the dead.’
Ugh. That is wonderful.
I think my knowledge is quite bounded but my curiosity is another issue :). Yes, I took those lines from various poems and translations of his work so I could share some of his voice within the poem.
Positively exquisite, a tour d’force of lyricism; it pierces me. I especially found these lines lucent and empowering:
Peacock drinks from your lips
muskets fire above your still breast
your death cements my longing
spurs me along the path
lined with stained rubies
The walls of the mausoleum
preserve the tattered ash
of my words
you exist only here, abandoning us
an encaustic imprint
of the dramaturgy of color
Beautifully distilled and carefully wrought language, Anna– Brava! xxj http://parolavivace.blogspot.com .
The language, as ever, was a major concern for me here but especially so as I knew I was trying to unite three songs. The words of the poet combining with the visual language of the director and infusing the poem with enough of my own voice to feel that I was creating something entirely new not just echoing the others was paramount. I appreciate your detailed feedback Jenne’ it is most helpful.
you are amazing and such an excellent read another poem well penned and I do so enjoy coming here reading your poems I am so happy I found this site
http://gatelesspassage.com/2011/10/18/farewell-my-three-legged-friend/
Thank you very much for your continuing enthusiasm and support.
This has such a classic and polished feel. It would be impossible for me to distinguish the quotes from your own lines. Wonderfully intelligent and emotional. A superb rendition. This is the kind of work that makes the rest of us wonder what the heck we think we’re doing…
Thank you Steve, though the last line – I believe we all have our cherished work to do and I learn so much from other artists. I deeply appreciate your feedback.
I loved the narrative, the tangible textures and sensualities of this piece. What rich and very fruitful intertextuality Anna… I feel I might smell of peacocks now….
The film immediately resonated with me and I knew I had to respond. It’s wonderful to hear that translated well, thank you Becky.
I thought this poem was your most accessible. I loved the imagery. Your work often challenges me. Your approach is so “other” from my own although at one point in my life, I aspired to write with all the depth of allusion and philosophical probing that I find in yours. You do it with seeming ease (always a mark of a sure poet, certain of his/her understanding and choice of how to write). Now I am a bit surer of my own, but with poems such as this I envy your ability, choice of subject, and approach. It is very fine, indeed.
Thank you Gay, half of the imagery is from the film (so that I could incorporate the visual language of the director) so you may find you enjoy it. Accessibility is a difficult thing for me to gauge in my own work as I see it from the inside. I find a lot of what I read inaccessible as it doesn’t make sense with the way I think so I think I understand what you’re saying. As artists we all have to come to terms with our own voice. Mine has been trampled upon enough times that I now trust it first, but I endeavor to remain teachable as I often learn from feedback and other poets. I’ve found your writing and form challenges very helpful. I do greatly appreciate that you engage the work even when you find it challenging. To me it is a sign of respect.
Anna, this is one of my favorite of yours. Using the first person is such an effective technique. I love the imagery and the way you used sensory description draws the reader in. Wonderful.
Thanks Victoria, I’m sure your prompt helped with this poem too :)!
Love stories between artists reach unimaginiable heights and depths due to the creative interface. Great tale of it here, byzantine and lushly ornamented though you let the singers do their work. Fine work. – Brendan
I was hoping you’d enjoy this poem, thank you for coming by to share your thoughts.
Being dumbstruck is not necessarily a bad thing. I don’t know what to say about some art works – and I like it that way.
Thanks for sharing the video clip. The images are intriguing and beautifully filmed. Th tale of how you wove this poem is as fascinating as the poem itself. It’s written in a voice I haven’t seen from you before, more stripped down and at the same time full of bright and surprising images – much like the film clip. Love and longing come through, and yet the word ‘exotic’ also comes to mind, for obvious reasons but also in the sense that one does not have to understand a thing to recognize its beauty. One might be satisfied to sit dumb in its presence….
Mark, I sometimes have that response to art too. Thank you for engaging the work and especially for watching the video clip. I’m thrilled to hear the process is of interest to you, often I find artists don’t like to talk about process but I find it intriguing.
You work the threads of my childhood
Its color and aroma
into the lace of your purity
through you I discover my grace
A gentle wind streams silk
I am the wandering nightingale’ ~ so many lovely images Anna throughout all of this ~ and I adore peacocks ~ ‘ a gentle wind streams silk’ ~ gorgeous ~
and a very interesting vid clip too ~
So glad you checked out the video and enjoyed the imagery. Thank you, I’ll be by to read you soon – I’ve been ill so I’m delayed.
Girl, I came back to see where Anna is, and I see that I somehow failed to comment on this, even though I came and read it. The crying peacock moved me more than anything else, though i can’t properly express why.
Yes, the peacock crying at the window is from the film, it is moving.
Fascinating, Anna. One batch of lines caught me and wouldn’t let me go:
my love a passion overflowing
the vessel of our lives
birthing poetry
Love this.
A good batch of lines to latch onto as a poet. Thank you, Joe.
This is mesmerizing, so many interesting lines, yet even with the translations your voice is in it. Fascinating on many levels; I enjoyed this read.
Thank you, I do find it an interesting challenge to engage another work of art yet retain my voice. I look forward to reading your poem.
an easier read for me from you.
charming and beautiful.
Thank you Morning, I’m happy you liked it.
I really enjoyed this Anna! It flowed well and read smoothly. So much beautiful language. I especially like:
Peacock drinks from your lips
muskets fire above your still breast
your death cements my longing
spurs me along the path
lined with stained rubies
Thank you Laurie! The first two lines are descriptions of images from the film and then the next three are my contribution to the dialogue.
“You wove the lace of death, its visage concealed my pain.” Wow, that brace of lines stopped me in my tracks. I always learn so much of an artistic life I do not know when I read your work, Anna. Always stunning.
Joe, I appreciate you returning and finding more here. Stunning is a magnificent compliment, thank you.
I’m glad I read this poem. It was beautiful, and full of wonderful imagery. Amazing work.
this was such beautiful line.
‘I am careful with your mouth, you speak in fables…
Thank you very much Nefarious X, I’m glad you shared your thoughts with me.