ANAHIT ARUSTAMYAN

ANAHIT ARUSTAMYAN

I AM A PIECE OF PAPER

The ink will never walk out of me.

I know this. I am its piece of paper, blue or green.

I am an emerald spring or a rainy autumn with brown leaves.

I melt in a summer's heat.

I float in a winter's silver mist.

My worn out slippers don't leave my feet.

I can climb up the mountains only in my dreams.

I am a piece of paper for my dripping ink.

My worn out slippers won't last or will.

I am a piece of paper for my inkpot's quill.

Patience is stubborn in its helplessness.

I can find a bench to sit.

The bench doesn't have wheels.

The bench doesn't have wings.

O, no, it has both in my blue ink.

BIRDS PROBABLY KNOW

Don't worry, my darling!

I will fly to you with a mild breeze.

The breeze will raise me with its transparent wings.

Don't worry, my darling!

Just try to believe!

A bird may guide me all over the seas.

Planes fly through the sky without me.

They probably know that I don't exist.

I can appear in your night dreams.

My eyes will shine through the moon beams.

Don't worry, my darling!

Just try to believe!

Birds probably know that I exist.

I IMAGINE WINGS

I don't look like a comedian.

I am not a clown crying through laughter.

No, I don't have a mask but a white bandage or a plaster.

With my silent words I guide my voyage further and further.

I must bite my tongue as my own wounds cannot be deeper than the world's ones.

I imagine wings and a flying bird seems a miracle.

I am not a comedian or a clown crying through laughter.

I ask a pilot if my wings are ill inside the plaster.

Mr. pilot is not a doctor to answer.

ANAHIT ARUSTAMYAN