Hovhannes Shiraz is one of my favourite poets. i decided to arrange lesson-presentantion based on his famous book " Հուշարձան մայրիկիս՚՚, all the poems are translated by me.
Հնչումէհանդարտ
P. Passer stop, incline your head
Here sleeps, the universe I had.
Էկրանին երևում են մի քանի նկարներ,
P. Hovhannes (Onik) TadevosKarapetyan, was born in 1914 April 27, in Alexandrapol, now it is called Gyumri. His father died during Armenian Genocide.
P. His mother Astghik, was a poor woman. During the Genocide she lost her daughter, and little Hovhannes. After several years she found him in a bazar. Later Shiraz will write his favorite <<ԳՏԱ>>.
P. I’ve found
I was little orphan
And remember cruel things,
And one day deep at night,
I run away from orphanage.
I was dreaming of my mother,
And my home and my father,
I found only my yard, a poplar
And a house ruined by asker.
Oh my cruel memories,
My destroyed house,
My unburied father,
And my lost sister,
But where were my mother
Where was she?
I remembered her eyes,
Full of tears and smile.
My sad unhappy memories
They can witness
I became a vermin
And one day
I saw a woman very old
She was walking, praying Lord,
She was carrying in her hand
Bread! Oh my foolish head.
I approached and suddenly
Wanted to rob the bread only,
She looked at me stared at me
And cried out with all her heart
She pulled me cried and cried
Calling my name, my name she cried.
She was holding, she was kissing
She was crying, she was pulling.
My brow, my ears, my eyes
My cheeks, and my grimy hands.
And was calling: “my mad my mad”
Crying again and again
The people gathered, around us,
They were astonished seeing us.
I was not hearing what said she
I was not asking who was she,
I was just feeling warmly hug
Which I was missing all my life.
I did not see who was here
Or what they say, or what they feel,
I was just feeling warmly hug
Which I was dreaming all my life.
She was loving, she was holding,
She was kissing, she was praying
She found me, and I found mom…
Oh, she was Astghik my lovely mom
She took me home, and lovely son.
P. He loved his mother so deep, so purely, he wrote a book for her mother’s sake, called “Monument to My Mother” published in 1968.
I didn’t see the passed
I remember nothing
I never saw it
In all my dreamings,
But when I looked
Into my mom’s eyes
I saw hidden tears,
Of her heavy life.
I didn’t see the passed
And remember nothing
I feel the painful tears
Deep in my mom’s eyes.
Music
Like three big stars
Like three huge stars
I have three loves in my heart
I said to my girl beloved
Became she angry and sad so.
“Oh”, I said, “don’t, you are mu life,
Three of stars are you, my mom,
And my lovely Hayastan”.
P. Shiraz was always happy to see his mom with his children. And always felt warm touch and feelings when his mother had his child in her arms.
Mother took my child
And kissed lovely
And I felt like winter
Became spring truly.
That is why this world
Is always a child.
Music
P. Shiraz studied in Yerevan State University and later in Moscow Literature Institute after Maxim Gorky.
I looked at my mother and stared at myself
As a poet, and was thinking myself
My mom is so pure small
How I am so mad, high and tall.
Andrey Dimitrev, who translated poems of Shiraz, wrote: “ Hovhannes Shiraz, like Sergey Yesenin uses many metaphors, so it is very hard to translate his poetry.
Music
My mother doesn’t know
How to read and write
But if she does
She damn you, she does.
My mom doesn’t know
And let her not to know
She would read my poems
My pain she would know.
Music
P. Shiraz mostly wrote and published poetry, he is an author of about 40 poetry books and translations
What kind of heart do you have,
My mother, my beauty, my pride.
I am your mad son, I’ve hurt you so much
But again you are here, with me by my side
Video with H. Sh.
P. H. Shiraz was religious, but every time in his poems he put his lovely mother equal to God equal to Lord.
When my mom was born
The Lord thought. “I am useless”
And from that very days
Our moms are like gods.
Short music
I won’t change my mom
Or even her hair cut,
Oh if there is Mom
Who needs you God.
Music
P. H. Shiraz took his pen name from city Shiraz in Iran, famous for its roses and poets.
Another version of his pen name is Shirak-azn, that is a child of Shirak, a region he was born.
Music
I gave my pain to the braze
It turned it back.
I gave my pain to the seas,
The seas gave it back.
I gave my pain to my friend
Again he turned it back,
I gave my pain to my lovely woman
She turned it back, oh, unlucky I am.
I gave my pain to the stones
I gave my pain to the hills.
Stones gave it back
And the same did hills.
I gave my pain to my sister
She didn’t take it.
To give my pain to my mom, I tried.
She took it away, bewailed and vanished.
P. The famous poem “my mother” is loved by every Armenian all over the world.
1.
She is my hope,
She is my chapel,
She is my cradle,
She is my castle,
She is my mom and dad
She is my slave,
And Lord instead.
2.
She is homeless,
And my nest.
She is my servant,
She is my best
She is a crown
She is my taste.
3
She is elixir, and water
She is my thirsty sister
She is always sleepless
Sometimes is hopeless.
4
She is a quiet slumber
She is energy and fire,
And a peaceful prier.
She is my peace
She is my goddess,
She is my bread and water,
She is my mother.
P. H. Shiraz was dead in 1984 March 24 in Yerevan. He was buried at Pantheon after Komitas.
Î.سÝëáõñÛ³Ý “Îïáñ ÙÁ »ñÏÇÝù”, êÇñá Ù»Õ»¹Ç, ²ßÝ³Ý ³ñ¨, ÐÇÝ ûñ»ñÇ »ñ·Á
². ´³µ³ç³ÝÛ³Ý ü³Ýﳽdz, ÜáÏïÛáõéÝ,
¾ÝÇá سñÇÏáÝ» Le Vent, le cri
Просмотр содержимого документа
«Hovhannes Shiraz "Monument For My Mother»
11
Հնչումէհանդարտ
P. Passer stop, incline your head
Here sleeps, the universe I had.
Էկրանին երևում են մի քանի նկարներ,
P. Hovhannes (Onik) TadevosKarapetyan, was born in 1914 April 27, in Alexandrapol, now it is called Gyumri. His father died during Armenian Genocide.
P. His mother Astghik, was a poor woman. During the Genocide she lost her daughter, and little Hovhannes. After several years she found him in a bazar. Later Shiraz will write his favorite ԳՏԱ.
P. I’ve found
I was little orphan
And remember cruel things,
And one day deep at night,
I run away from orphanage.
I was dreaming of my mother,
And my home and my father,
I found only my yard, a poplar
And a house ruined by asker.
Oh my cruel memories,
My destroyed house,
My unburied father,
And my lost sister,
But where were my mother
Where was she?
I remembered her eyes,
Full of tears and smile.
My sad unhappy memories
They can witness
I became a vermin
And one day
I saw a woman very old
She was walking, praying Lord,
She was carrying in her hand
Bread! Oh my foolish head.
I approached and suddenly
Wanted to rob the bread only,
She looked at me stared at me
And cried out with all her heart
She pulled me cried and cried
Calling my name, my name she cried.
She was holding, she was kissing
She was crying, she was pulling.
My brow, my ears, my eyes
My cheeks, and my grimy hands.
And was calling: “my mad my mad”
Crying again and again
The people gathered, around us,
They were astonished seeing us.
I was not hearing what said she
I was not asking who was she,
I was just feeling warmly hug
Which I was missing all my life.
I did not see who was here
Or what they say, or what they feel,
I was just feeling warmly hug
Which I was dreaming all my life.
She was loving, she was holding,
She was kissing, she was praying
She found me, and I found mom…
Oh, she was Astghik my lovely mom
She took me home, and lovely son.
P. He loved his mother so deep, so purely, he wrote a book for her mother’s sake, called “Monument to My Mother” published in 1968.
I didn’t see the passed
I remember nothing
I never saw it
In all my dreamings,
But when I looked
Into my mom’s eyes
I saw hidden tears,
Of her heavy life.
I didn’t see the passed
And remember nothing
I feel the painful tears
Deep in my mom’s eyes.
Music
Like three big stars
Like three huge stars
I have three loves in my heart
I said to my girl beloved
Became she angry and sad so.
“Oh”, I said, “don’t, you are mu life,
Three of stars are you, my mom,
And my lovely Hayastan”.
P. Shiraz was always happy to see his mom with his children. And always felt warm touch and feelings when his mother had his child in her arms.
Mother took my child
And kissed lovely
And I felt like winter
Became spring truly.
That is why this world
Is always a child.
Music
P. Shiraz studied in Yerevan State University and later in Moscow Literature Institute after Maxim Gorky.
I looked at my mother and stared at myself
As a poet, and was thinking myself
My mom is so pure small
How I am so mad, high and tall.
Andrey Dimitrev, who translated poems of Shiraz, wrote: “ Hovhannes Shiraz, like Sergey Yesenin uses many metaphors, so it is very hard to translate his poetry.
Music
My mother doesn’t know
How to read and write
But if she does
She damn you, she does.
My mom doesn’t know
And let her not to know
She would read my poems
My pain she would know.
Music
P. Shiraz mostly wrote and published poetry, he is an author of about 40 poetry books and translations
What kind of heart do you have,
My mother, my beauty, my pride.
I am your mad son, I’ve hurt you so much
But again you are here, with me by my side
Video with H. Sh.
P. H. Shiraz was religious, but every time in his poems he put his lovely mother equal to God equal to Lord.
When my mom was born
The Lord thought. “I am useless”
And from that very days
Our moms are like gods.
Short music
I won’t change my mom
Or even her hair cut,
Oh if there is Mom
Who needs you God.
Music
P. H. Shoraz took his pen name from city Shiraz in Iran, famous for its roses and poets.
Another version of his pen name is Shirak-azn, that is a child of Shirak, a region he was born.
Music
I gave my pain to the braze
It turned it back.
I gave my pain to the seas,
The seas gave it back.
I gave my pain to my friend
Again he turned it back,
I gave my pain to my lovely woman
She turned it back, oh, unlucky I am.
I gave my pain to the stones
I gave my pain to the hills.
Stones gave it back
And the same did hills.
I gave my pain to my sister
She didn’t take it.
To give my pain to my mom, I tried.
She took it away, bewailed and vanished.
P. The famous poem “my mother” is loved by every Armenian all over the world.
1.
She is my hope,
She is my chapel,
She is my cradle,
She is my castle,
She is my mom and dad
She is my slave,
And Lord instead.
2.
She is homeless,
And my nest.
She is my servant,
She is my best
She is a crown
She is my taste.
3
She is elixir, and water
She is my thirsty sister
She is always sleepless
Sometimes is hopeless.
4
She is a quiet slumber
She is energy and fire,
And a peaceful prier.
She is my peace
She is my goddess,
She is my bread and water,
She is my mother.
P. H. Shiraz was dead in 1984 March 24 in Yerevan. He was buried at Pantheon after Komitas.
Î.سÝëáõñÛ³Ý “Îïáñ ÙÁ »ñÏÇÝù”, êÇñá Ù»Õ»¹Ç, ²ßÝ³Ý ³ñ¨, ÐÇÝ ûñ»ñÇ »ñ·Á
². ´³µ³ç³ÝÛ³Ý ü³Ýﳽdz, ÜáÏïÛáõéÝ,
¾ÝÇá سñÇÏáÝ» Le Vent, le cri
11