A phenomenal achievement: A new translation of the most famous Armenian poem

2026-03-13 - 13:24

Yeghishe Charents’ 129th anniversary falls on March 13. His poetry, prose, opinions and persona have accompanied us for more than a century. His lines pulsate and vibrate: obstinate, challenging, enticing, propagandizing, sad, resigned, embracing the socialist revolution, propagating iconoclast poetics, despairing of the paradise-building project, marvelously reviving the work of 1,500 years of Armenian literature, embracing far-flung civilizations, religious thought, world culture. The man and the work are sometimes hard to tell apart — always alive, always present, always worth returning to. A voice, a sound, a phenomenon. For Simon Maghakyan, who recently published a new translation of the most famous Armenian poem in Time magazine, the cadence and intonation of Charents’ poetry have been the rhythm of life since his childhood. Instilled in him by his mother, it became a lifeline for his communication with his son, in the form of Ես իմ անուշ Հայաստանի արեվահամ բարն եմ սիրում, Charents’ best-known poem, emblematic of a reborn Armenia. The project of translating the poem together with his exceptional child turned into a remarkable story of connection and language exploration with precious results. One was fatherhood turning from a source of anxiety into an inspiration and source of invigoration, including forging a deeper bond than he feared might be possible. It is also an extraordinary rendering of Charents’ poem. The language bounces and resounds, resilient and joyous, always fully felt and vibrant, reminiscent of the colors of the illustrations that often accompany it and that arise from the depth of Charents’ talent. It is a phenomenal achievement to create a texture that reflects so closely the living pulse of Charents’ lines with their innovative word combinations that render with great intensity the use of all our senses. To be able to recreate this in English is an outstanding achievement, that does the poet proud. Because Maghakyan’s Time essay argues that Charents’s opening line was always meant to have two versions in Biblical word (բառ) and the everyday bounty (բար), his and his 5-year-old son’s co-translation should be read in two versions: sensory and sacred. After all, Charents’ contemporary Osip Mandelstam often, particularly in what turned out to be the later part of his creative life, wrote what are known as doublets, two variants, equally valid, of one poem. I love my sweet Armenia’s sun-taste bounty [sensory version] By Yeghishe Charents, 1920-21 Translated by Simon Maghakyan, 2025 I love my sweet Armenia’s sun-taste bounty, Our ancient lute’s wail-tone, crysome chord I love. Blood-hued flowers’ and roses’ scent of burn, And Nairian girls’ grace-lithe dance I love. I love our sky – dim, waters crystal, lake moonlit, Sun of summer and the winter’s dragon-voice gale sublime, Lost-in-darkness huts’ uninviting walls – black, And timeworn cities’ millenary stone I love. Be where I may, I shan’t forget our sob-sound songs, Forget I shan’t our prayer-turned, iron-scripted books, However keenly my heart is pierced by our blood-drained wounds, Still – orphan and blood-burned my lover Armenia I love. For my home-longing heart, there is no other tale. No brow aglow like Narekatsi or Kuchak, Cross the world, no height alight like Ararat. Like reach-less glory’s path – my Masis mount I love. Simon Maghakyan and his co-translator son. (Photo: by Mher Ginosyan) I love my sweet Armenia’s sun-taste word [sacred version] By Yeghishe Charents, 1920-21 Translated by Simon Maghakyan, 2025 I love my sweet Armenia’s sun-taste word, Our ancient lute’s wail-tone, crysome chord I love. Blood-hued flowers’ and roses’ scent of burn, And Nairian girls’ grace-lithe dance I love. I love our sky – dim, waters crystal, lake moonlit, Sun of summer and the winter’s dragon-voice gale sublime, Lost-in-darkness huts’ uninviting walls – black, And timeworn cities’ millenary stone I love. Be where I may, I shan’t forget our sob-sound songs, Forget I shan’t our prayer-turned, iron-scripted books, However keenly my heart is pierced by our blood-drained wounds, Still – orphan and blood-burned my lover Armenia I love. For my home-longing heart, there is no other tale. No brow aglow like Narekatsi or Kuchak, Cross the world, no height alight like Ararat. Like reach-less glory’s path – my Masis mount I love.