I AM PLUCKING NOW…
I am plucking now
the eyelashes of silence one by one
to mend my prayer,
which has been torn by nuances of word…
Now the nuance is more than the voice…
And now I enter
the church of Hope barefooted,
so that my steps will not paint voices on my fortune.
How many footprints have been split apart by whispers…
While my footprint
is my prayer of love,
which never ends,
as it never colors itself in words…
And now
the main color is the truth,
that love is the poem of the feeling…
That muses don’t turn into women…
Eduard Harents
Author
Armenia
Translated Herminée Arshakyan
