So I don't lose it again
Nov. 27th, 2006 08:13 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
badseed1980I posted this poem to my LJ once before, but stupidly forgot to put it in my memories. Here it is again, and I WILL mark it this time.
The Prayer Of Navasart For Goddess Anahid
by Siamanto (1878-1915)
Translated from the Armenian by Shant Norashkharian.
Published in Boston, 1910, by Hairenik Publishers and reprinted in 1979 by Caravan Books. This is public domain.
O Goddess, I have now washed my conscience from feeble religions,
And I walk to You gracefully. My slippers are still holy.
Open the marble door of your temple, let me mark your forehead with blood...
Open your altar and give me the red power of my Ardashessian ancestors...
Hear me, Golden mother, fertile sister, sister of goodness,
The giver of abundance and Goddess of Ancient Armenians,
With the morning of Navasart, Your former race is festive...
Allow me to pray on my knees in front of your image...
Hear me, Rose of Miracle, goddess with golden feet,
White Bride of Night and Mistress of Sun,
And radiant nakedness of Aramazt's Veil,
Let the sun light with one ray your altar again...
I believe in You. Standing firm on the hills of Bakrevant,
I, a pagan of many centuries and your son armed with arrows,
As a messenger and implorer I come to You grandly,
Hear me, my Haigian castanets were born from the Koltan earth...
I come as a pilgrim. Wearing a chlamys longer than my height and green twigs in my hand as wands,
Here is a silver pot with rose essence to anoint your breasts...
Here is an urn-shaped incense dish where I cried for your ruin with my tears...
I walk toward You with precious roes following my shadow...
From the hills of Bakrevant the pagan life flows,
Sons of the sun, magnificent, dressed in muslins,
After their training with bows, spears and arrows, on the threshold of your place of sacrifice,
Let them pierce their swords into the necks of mighty bulls...
Let the orderly flock of turtle-doves take flight toward your statue
From the shoulders of fruitful Armenian brides. Let the water games of the Day of Roses begin...
And let sixteen year old girls surround your altar,
Let them offer you their magical bodies, O Great Mother of Sageness...
Let me take your vengeance of twenty centuries for you today,
O Goddess Anahid. There I have thrown in the fires of your altar,
The two poisonous wings of my destroyed wooden cross,
And be joyful, O Golden mother, I shall burn a pestilent bone from the ribs
of The Illuminator for you...
I beg You, of all powers you, Beauty second to none,
By offering your body to the sun, impregnate yourself with its Element,
And give the Armenians the gift of an invincible, formidable God...
From your diamond womb, O Goddess, give birth to a formidable God for us...
* * *
Translation Copyright 1996 by Shant Norashkharian
Man, reading this again gives me chills. It's beautiful, and makes me happy I took a dance name of Anahit. The poet who wrote the piece was executed by the Turks in 1915.
The Prayer Of Navasart For Goddess Anahid
by Siamanto (1878-1915)
Translated from the Armenian by Shant Norashkharian.
Published in Boston, 1910, by Hairenik Publishers and reprinted in 1979 by Caravan Books. This is public domain.
O Goddess, I have now washed my conscience from feeble religions,
And I walk to You gracefully. My slippers are still holy.
Open the marble door of your temple, let me mark your forehead with blood...
Open your altar and give me the red power of my Ardashessian ancestors...
Hear me, Golden mother, fertile sister, sister of goodness,
The giver of abundance and Goddess of Ancient Armenians,
With the morning of Navasart, Your former race is festive...
Allow me to pray on my knees in front of your image...
Hear me, Rose of Miracle, goddess with golden feet,
White Bride of Night and Mistress of Sun,
And radiant nakedness of Aramazt's Veil,
Let the sun light with one ray your altar again...
I believe in You. Standing firm on the hills of Bakrevant,
I, a pagan of many centuries and your son armed with arrows,
As a messenger and implorer I come to You grandly,
Hear me, my Haigian castanets were born from the Koltan earth...
I come as a pilgrim. Wearing a chlamys longer than my height and green twigs in my hand as wands,
Here is a silver pot with rose essence to anoint your breasts...
Here is an urn-shaped incense dish where I cried for your ruin with my tears...
I walk toward You with precious roes following my shadow...
From the hills of Bakrevant the pagan life flows,
Sons of the sun, magnificent, dressed in muslins,
After their training with bows, spears and arrows, on the threshold of your place of sacrifice,
Let them pierce their swords into the necks of mighty bulls...
Let the orderly flock of turtle-doves take flight toward your statue
From the shoulders of fruitful Armenian brides. Let the water games of the Day of Roses begin...
And let sixteen year old girls surround your altar,
Let them offer you their magical bodies, O Great Mother of Sageness...
Let me take your vengeance of twenty centuries for you today,
O Goddess Anahid. There I have thrown in the fires of your altar,
The two poisonous wings of my destroyed wooden cross,
And be joyful, O Golden mother, I shall burn a pestilent bone from the ribs
of The Illuminator for you...
I beg You, of all powers you, Beauty second to none,
By offering your body to the sun, impregnate yourself with its Element,
And give the Armenians the gift of an invincible, formidable God...
From your diamond womb, O Goddess, give birth to a formidable God for us...
* * *
Translation Copyright 1996 by Shant Norashkharian
Man, reading this again gives me chills. It's beautiful, and makes me happy I took a dance name of Anahit. The poet who wrote the piece was executed by the Turks in 1915.
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no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 08:56 pm (UTC)not to take away ANYTHING from the worship of anahid, but i found the following interesting, and thought you might as well:
from a review of a book on armenian literature by Tamrazian (http://groong.usc.edu/tcc/tcc-20030121.html):
"Tamrazian's volume also contains many illuminating observations on
issues of Armenian literature. Noting the impact of European literary
trends he adds that the imposing realities of the Armenian national
experience tempered European individualist influences and enabled
poets to create with a broader social and humanist vision. Thus the
'pagan poetry' of the time that eulogised classical Armenian nobility,
courage and strength reveals the influence of certain Nietzcheian
concepts. But as a function of the Armenian experience this 'paganism'
had a primarily social not individualist expression. Siamanto's
rejection of Christian submissiveness, for example, is animated by a
profoundly collective vision - the recovery of a nobly conceived
national past as inspiration to overcome present national subjugation:
'Let me take your vengeance of 20 centuries for you today
O Goddess Anahid. There I have thrown in the fires of your altar,
Two poisonous wings of my destroyed wooden cross
...
I beg You,
...
...give the Armenians the gift of an invincible, formidable God
From your diamond womb, O Goddess, give birth to a formidable God
for us."
just thought it was worth reading. :)
no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 09:12 pm (UTC)Plus, I don't think that a latter-day interpretation like this COULD take away from the rather interesting religion that worshipped Anahid/Anahit and the rest of the Armenian pantheon. My mom has an old book on Armenian history that includes some info on that, which I really enjoyed.
Thanks for sharing this!
no subject
Date: 2006-11-27 11:56 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-12-05 01:06 pm (UTC)