Nora Nadjarian: Letters to Parajanov

In the Armenian folk song Groung (Crane) the singer calls out to the 

migratory bird, begging for word from the homeland. 

1.

Whisper, Parajanov, that colour from long ago. The alphabet melted when

my mother in church said: for each a candle. We learned to smell that wax,

it was tears. My father stabbed the sky ten times and fled. A bird became a decade

and then a century and we slept in another country, it was the crane.

2.

The story starts off a delicate girl, climbs stubborn mountains. The secret of the ark,

a magician gave me thirty-eight letters to write: My name is – I come from – We speak –

and other phrases repeated on loop. The long climb of not forgetting, Parajanov,

open and close my mouth, give me the pride of a nation to swallow. It hurts like love.

3.

We grew up, our eyes that beautiful black, our silences multilingual, and that glue,

Parajanov, which fixed us and sealed our lips, peeled. Years later, the lyrics returned,

the crane. Did you bring news? I asked. The question was burning my throat,

that absence. Where is the place where language lives? Did you bring news?

Nora Nadjarian

First published on Lucy Writers (Lucy Cavendish College, Cambridge) in the series Life in Languages,
edited by Elodie Rose Barnes. (August 2020) 

Nora Nadjarian: Separation

The time came when they longed to return.

My father walked circles in the living room,

my mother packed and unpacked her hands.

We will leave when the rain stops, they said.

The rain in this country is so unkind.

The time came when they could no longer return.

My father sat in his remote corner of silence,

my mother leant into lamplight and threaded sighs.

We will leave when the rain stops, she said,

hummed intricate tunes, sewed invisible tears.

~ Nora Nadjarian

Nora Nadjarian's work on Lyrikline

Nora Nadjarian, a Cyprus based poet and a long time participant in the Armenian Poetry Project, has been included in the illustrious list of poets on the LYRIKLINE.org's website.

Congratulations, Nora!

Click here to see Nora's work and to hear the recordings.

Nora Nadjarian: Mother Tongue

Click here for the Youtube.com clip read by Finnegan Flawnt .

Which language do you dream in,
swear in, cry in, asked the questionnaire.
How many languages do you swim in,
drown in, breathe in, mime in?

Do you know how many tongues have adopted
your voice? And when at night you stare
at dark walls and one pair of lips
comes closer, whispering in perfect German

Ich bin deine Mutter -

Or the night shadows enlarge into a Fritz Lang
open scream and Muttersprache appears
on the silent movie screen, then:
what do you reply? In which language,

and how clearly, do you say: my mother tongue
is somewhere in the recesses of my mind.
I am not an orphan. I have a mother.
She put me to bed one night

and went away. The film we made
together has long been silent. But I still
hear her voice in the keyhole of my heart.

© Nora Nadjarian 2003

Nora Nadjarian: Ladybird

On the other pillow is a lady bird which escaped from a dream.
It reminds me of when I was a tiny red polka dot. And then bigger, and other
colours. And then…
I stare at the ceiling, searching its soul for little things. The ladybird
touches my arm, whispers that it wants to be a tattoo. I ask it to tell me what
it’s like to live in and out of dreams.

This poem appeared on Sunday, August 9, 2009 on the metazen.ca website


NORA NADJARIAN is a poet and writer from Cyprus. She is the author of three collections of poetry and a collection of short stories, “Ledra Street”. Her poems and short stories have been included in various anthologies and journals in Cyprus, Germany, India, Israel, New Zealand, the UK and the United States. She has won prizes or been commended in various international competitions, including the Scottish International Open Poetry Com­petition, the Commonwealth Short Story Competition, and the Féile Filíochta International Poetry Competition (Ireland). In 2009, her story “And the Seven Dwarves” was a finalist from over 900 submissions in the Binnacle Sixth Annual International Ultra-Short Competi­tion at The University of Maine at Machias (USA).

e-mail: noranadj@logosnet.cy.net

Nora Nadjarian: I Studied the Silence of the Stars…

I studied the silence of the stars,
the black, icy skies, the skeletons of trees.
For centuries my mind was at work,
sharp yet bitter, and now old and strange.

When I speak, I still lisp like a boy,
and on certain untroubled, lucky nights,
when I dream of the unicorn, its musky smell
and wild hooves —

I imagine that tomorrow will take my hand,
and teach me to write one more book
which will astonish the world.


Nora Nadjarian

Աստղերուն Լռութիւնը Սերտեցի

Աստղերուն լռութիւնը սերտեցի,
Խաւարը, սառով պատուած երկինքը, ծառերուն ուրուագիծը …
Տարիներէ ի վեր նուիրուած էի աշխատանքի,
Միտքս սուր էր, բայց հիմա զարմանալիօրէն կը բթանայ:

Երբ կը խօսիմ, դեռ տղեկի պէս կը թոթովեմ,
Եւ որոշ, խաղաղ, բախտաւոր գիշերները
Կ' երազեմ միեղջիւրեայ կենդանին,
Իր անուշաբոյր հոտը եւ վայրի սմբակները:

Կ' երևակայեմ, որ ան, վաղը, ձեռքս բռնելով
Պիտի առաջնորդէ զիս գիրք մը ևս գրելու,
Որ պիտի հիացնէ աշխարհը:



Նորա Նաճարեան
(Թարգմանիչ - Մակի Էսկիճեան)

Nora Nadjarian: Diaspora

seeds scattered in the wind
here and there who are you
where’s armenia –ian –ian

my boyfriend doesn’t understand
he knows nothing about seeds
blown into the future

just hold me i tell him
hold me tight because parts of me
are here and parts of me flying in the sky

where will i land and grow
will i ever return to yerevan –van –van
i just don’t know who i am

you are a flower he says
waiting to be born

Nora Nadjarian




Սփիւռք

Սերմեր սփռուած են օդին մէջ
Այստեղ ու այնտեղ. ով՞ ես դուն.
Ուր՞ է Հայաստանը – եան, – եան :

Ընկերս չ'ըմբռներ այս միտքը
Ան չի գիտեր սփռուած սերմերու մասին,
Որոնք պիտի ծաղկին ապագային:

Ես պիտի բացատրեմ իրեն.
Զիս ուժեղ բռնէ, որովհետեւ իմ հատորներս
Մասամբ կը թոչկոտին երկինքին մէջ:

Ուր՞ պիտի իյնամ ու մեծնամ
Արդեօք պիտի վերադառնամ՞ Երեւան – վան – վան.
Չեմ գիտեր, թէ ով՞ եմ ես:

Դուն ծաղիկ մըն ես, կ' ըսէ ան,
Որ կը սպասես վերածնունդի:


Նորա Նաճարեան
(Թարգմանիչ - Մակի Էսկիճեան)

Nora Nadjarian: When you return to Ashtarak

stand on the bridge
and listen to the silence of our ancestors
in the marrow of your bones

sing sing and wake up the stones
the souls of the dead the river the skies
sing to those red and orange birds in our language
sing those bittersweet words and proud refrains
to show them you remember who you are

stand on the bridge
and listen to the silence of our ancestors
in the marrow of your bones

remember who you are
as you sing to the river Kasakh
when you return


Nora Nadjarian

Երբ Աշտարակ վերադառնաս

Կանգնէ՛ կամուրջին վրայ
Եւ քու ոսկորներուդ ծուծերուն ընդմէջէն
Ունկնդրէ՛ մեր պապերուն լռութիւնը:

Երգէ՛, երգէ՛ և արթնցուր՛ քարերը,
Նահատակներուն հոգիները, գետն ու երկինքը.
Մեր լեզուով երգէ՛ այդ կարմիր և նարնջագոյն թռչուններուն.
Երգէ՛ այդ դառնանուշ բառերով և հպարտալի կրկներգով,
Փաստելով, թէ կը յիշես ով ըլլալդ:

Կանգնէ՛ կամուրջին վրայ
Եւ ունկնդրէ՛ մեր պապերուն անդորրը
Քու ոսկորներուդ ծուծին ընդմէջէն:

Երբ վերադառձիդ երգես Քասախ գետին,
Յիշէ՛, թէ ով ես դուն:

Նորա Նաճարեան
(Թարգմանիչ - Մակի Էսկիճեան)