Tuesday, March 1, 2016


Anahit Arustamyan


I wish I was a flower in a newborn spring. Would you like me to be a daisy with pearl lips? Would you like me to be a poppy with ruby cheeks? I would rather be a violet in deep purple dreams. My darling, I probably know one thing. My white tablets wouldn't turn into mint. The Earth and the sun being afar can flirt. Do they know what a violet may hint? It may kiss its purple dreams in a newborn spring. Am I a violet growing in a street? All these hours are travellers veiled by mist. Don't worry, my darling! We still have enough time to sing.


We are together as our fairy tale is magic. We wander with seasons in life's traffic. We are small wheels spinning and running. Life tells the same tale with lots of changes. How long has it told the same fairy tale to its traffic? How long have we lived with something mystic? All dreams come and go blinking. They may pat and kiss something. Their fingers pick up nothing. They walk to meet us smiling. Wisdom talks to this traffic. Madness drives through it laughing. We are small wheels in life's traffic. All dreams have mystic bodies. Rainbows remind of bridges. Are they made from vivid fabric? Our dreams step on their stripes slipping. We run through life's traffic talking. Seasons paint their canvases while sailing.


Do you see a little bird flown to you in a windy day? It's a canary left its bench. It flew miles patting the sky's face. Are you amazed at its soft wings painted by a nude haze? No, its tiny beak hasn't dropped the songs anywhere. Do you listen to them in a dripping rain? The sun's mirror can be a sea or a lake. The bird doesn't have a mirror to look at its craze. Don't be amazed! It covered miles but it didn't drop its lyre on the long way. Don't be amazed! The bird didn't drop a single song saved for you in its haste.

Anahit Arustamyan

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