Awake with a start
from early dawn
the clown of the day
springs forth
with a heady
heartfelt toast
to the very first ray
stands facing you
reverent and warm
with his raw dalliance
expecting acceptance
for his salutation
with no evasion
In the morning
that same morning
the same ungainly
vulgar caller
you had only yesterday
sacked with a holler
re-enters today
through the window
smiles to your face
silly and shallow
with nary a sign
of comprehension
with no hint
of recognition
of your demeanor
how to explain?
How to convince
that you’re sickened
by his inane routine
his oblivious
inconsiderate
by now revolting
unconscionable
and untimely
hilarity?
How to make him fathom
your obligations that
all but choke you?
That starved for time
you have no taste at all
at your present age
to start and install
fantasy drawn
gaming tables?
You have
sores of worry
and colossal cramps
of bitter tasting
misgivings
and no one knows
how you survive
when from clear skies
enticing shimmers
illuminate
each slope and pit
except the dim caves
of your brain
how do you set straight
your curving spine?
How do you unfurl
your taught sail
and arrogate
to still live thus
as a spendthrift?
And at whose expense?
And now wholeheartedly
you reject the morning
you raise walls
of indifference
you cover the skies
with mist and haze
you wish to evade
the morning light
you wish to infect
the merry jester
with your deep
steep melancholy
you want to inhibit
his obstinate melody
render silent
his daily laughter
Rise
my countryman
and gaze on life
the bubbling bustle
the budding brain
the surging song
the roaring rhythm
and how is it that
this rolling dance
can dislodge rocks
and mighty mountains?
How does this earth
give birth to itself?
How do suns
embrace yet again
in copulation?
What sort of festivity?
How do sprouts surge
out of this soil?
And how do they meet
lip to lip
in tremors of
unfathomable bliss?
And how does man
ensnare happiness
carving his hope
from the core of despair?
Emerge from that
dire coma of yours
you are Lazarus
able to resurrect
the jester can
enslave you again
he can tease you
fool you once more
knitting his jest pull you
into the vortex of a dance
and turn your covert
limits on their heads
rise boldly
rise with glee
greet once more
the holy mystery
this sun can make
passionate love
it can arm you
can lick your wounds
from your palms
to your toes
it can infuse
its golden vigor
the jester can
dream with passion
it can trample
rite and legend
hunt by instinct
deviant thoughts
blatantly parody
your demise
the jester knows
where he takes
this whirling dance
with myriad heads
the jester creates
his songs this way
holding back tears
of a humorist
the jester sings
his games this way
wearing his heart
on his sleeve
the jester now
stands by your side
always ready
to mock your life
ready to step
on your toes
to soar into the sky
to hail with delight
The morning
this morning
this old visitor
who drops in thus
without permission
who barges in
with no attrition
sprawling with lust
on the wooden floor
in his juicy body
opening once more
the murky folders
of your brutal brain
rendering songs
devious and bare
mainlining stars
into your veins
silent yet spirited
he glows goodness
until you roll
on the floor
until once more
with his frayed mercy
his mute yearning
hidden melancholy
a skilled woman’s
ocean of kindness
forgives yet again
forgives with largess
endows you once more
with the gift of your life
to beckon you back
from your own path
…………Garo Armenian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz
