Like a rose – Anoush Krikorian

Like a rose…

Like a rose,
We sprout forth,
Emerge from
Our Mother, Earth.

Sometimes, We shimmer
under the bright sun,
Our gentle fragrance
emanates from all around.

But one day, near the end
of our short lives,
We find ourselves aged-
We have withered…

It’s all but
a short dream.
And just like that,
We are gone.

Anoush Krikorian, 1994

Anoush Krikorian's "Like a rose", rose, poem, armenian, poem, modern poetry, new jersey

Anoush Krikorian’s “Like a rose”

Like so many others – Anoush Krikorian

armenian, poem, poetry, Anush Krikorian, Armenia, USA, New Jersey poets

Anush Krikorian’s “Like so many others”

Like so many others…

Like many others,
I too
Arrived to this world
for a brief visit.

I too saw
the land and the sky,
I too felt the gentle caress of daisies
in sun-kissed fields.

I too saw
viscous and cruel,
Roaming the planet like barbarians.

I too felt
Like so many others,
joy and sorrow.

I too will
one day
become dirt –
Like the the dirt of many, many others…

Anoush Krikorian, 1994

It is written somewhere… – Anoush Krikorian

armenian, poetry, armenian, poem, modern, USA New Jersey, poet, translation, translate

Anush Krikorian’s “it is written somewhere…”

It is written somewhere…

It is written somewhere,
“Laugh and smile
and the world will
laugh and smile with you.”

But how can I laugh,
How can I smile,
When deep within my heart,
Deep within my soul,
I feel such pain.

How can I laugh
With you, dear world,
with such unhealed wounds –
the warm blood still running down my chest.

How can I laugh,
With you, dear world,
When my soul feels such pain
and sheds such tears.

How can I laugh,
with you, dear world,
When my soul feels such pain.

Anoush Krikorian, 1994

Autumn Leaves

Autumn, leaves, tree, armenian, poem, Anoush Krikorian

Anoush Krikorian’s “Autumn Leaves”

The leaves of autumn –
Yellowed and wilted,
They fall from their tree,
Gently drifting
As the wind arrives and takes them away.

They now travel,
These dead leaves,
In an eternal dance,
Locked hand in hand,
Without knowing where the wind will lead them…

It is only their mother who feels the pain,
She can do nothing but watch – and weep,
As the wind takes the leaves away from her,
Never to be seen again…

Anoush Krikorian, 1994