April’s Night

Written By: Mateos Zarifian

Translated By: Varak Babian


Mounds of carnage, corpses every which way…

No matter; behold, the roses tenderly bloom.

Life continues at its convenience; no matter…

Once again, the blood red twilights prior to dawn,

And the women of sweet sunsets-

Submerge half buried souls; the torrent overflows

With love, with wine, with light.


Mounds of carnage and corpses…

Though many claim

Throughout the crimson splattered fields,

Perched atop the perished bodies,

Massive lilies blossom at once.


A woman’s half buried skull,

Encased by nightfall,

With its unbecoming, dissonant jaw- 

Imbibes on dew summoned from the stars.


Rustled beneath the soles of my feet,

It’s as if she’s still privy to a spirit …

Perhaps when alive,

She existed as a delicate, affable girl…


Perhaps she relished inebriation,

During April days such as these,

From the pursed lips of lilacs…


Perhaps, in such a tentative state,

On bended knee, in her little room,

She prayed basked by the glow of candles…


Rustled beneath the soles of my feet,

It’s as if she still had tears to shed…


No Matter.

Must tread and pass.

Must forget.

Must grin, play the fool.

Must allow for time to march

One day to etch,

By the must of his fingertips

The will of other worldly executioners.


And now, from a distance

Behold April’s cascade of clear, bright stars.


  • Translated from the original, Mateos Zarifian’s, «Ապրիլի Գիշեր»․