“My Death” by Bedros Tourian

Bedros Tourian (1851-1872) was an Armenian poet and playwright. This is my translation of “My Death” from Armenian to English.

My Death

If the grim angel of death
Descends to face me with a baseless smile,
And my pains and soul evaporate,
Know that I am still alive.

If, with my forehead shining with tears,
In a shroud, like a cold rock,
They wrap me, lay me in a black casket,
Know that I am still alive.

If, at my bedside, my exemplar,
A taper – feeble and wan –
With a cold ray shimmers,
Know that I am still alive.

If the sad bell tolls,
The wicked laughter of death vibrates,
And my coffin takes its silent step,
Know that I am still alive.

If those funeral singers
Who have dark and dismal faces
Spread incense and prayers
Know that I am still alive.

If they decorate my grave,
And with sobbing and mourning
My dear ones depart,
Know that I am still alive.

But if it remains unmarked,
The only pile of earth of mine
In the world, and your memory of me fades
Ah! This is the time when I die.

I Cannot Log In to Reality

I can’t stay
away from screens.

I barely exist
in the physical world.

For maintenance only.

I disconnect to eat or to defecate.
I reconnect for work and leisure,
like I was meant to become data.

And like a fly tangled in a spider web,
it seems, I cannot escape
the World Wide Web.

The ghost of my existence clings
to the Internet of Things,
where the virtualized forms
of everyone and everything
dwell.

And things don’t happen anymore.
They don’t take place in the physical world.
And when they do, they echo in the metaverse.
I don’t exist anymore –
at least, not in the world I used to know.

Is this the beginning of
the technological singularity prophesied,
or are we already worshipping
the all-seeing tarantula?

We’re all chained to blockchains now.

When I turn off my devices,
who do I become?
And how do I get rid of this brain fog?

I cannot log in to Reality.
I’m there for maintenance only –
to charge batteries and
take care of basic physiological needs.

I cannot really log in to Reality.

Forgot password.

I must go back.

I must turn on
smartphone, computer, tablet, smartwatch
now.

Authenticating… Connecting…

must
surf.

must
serf.

Connected.

I Despise the Civil War Generation

“How can we free ourselves from being dominated by people from the past who still retain a shadow of power in the world of space, without soiling ourselves by coming into contact with their lives (we can use the soap of word-creation), and leave them to drown in the destiny they have earned for themselves, that of malicious termites?” —from “Subjects for Discussion” by Velimir Khlebnikov
——
Why do we have old men running the country?
You know, I despise the civil war generation.

When they were young
and the world was theirs,
they chose to slaughter each other.

Our parents and grandparents:
murderers, rapists, thieves,
propagandists, cowards,
idiots.

And the warlords they used to worship
still sit on thrones made of blood and feces.

I don’t care what they stood for.
I don’t care what they fought for.
Obviously, they failed
as I see no victors.

I would rather have
a coder or a gamer run the country.
A bartender or a young Uber driver would do, too.
Not food for worms.

The present — today — is the “future” that the civil war generation built.
This is their future.
Our future is tomorrow.
And tomorrow is a party which they wont — and cannot — attend.
(They’ll be bribing the ferryman
and drinking from Lethe.)

Their time is up, brothers and sisters.
Don’t let them guide you, advise you, teach you.
Because if they do, history will repeat itself.
Their wisdom is as valuable as our Lira.

So I say to you,
Respect your parents and grandparents, yeah,
but make sure you destroy the walls of hate that they have built.
You have to teach them because they cannot see.
The lenses they wear are old and dusty.

They must be reminded that the consequences of today
come from the mistakes of the past.
They are guilty.

The rewards of tomorrow will sprout
from the solutions of today.
And it’s up to you.
You.

Old men!
“We have broken the locks and see what your freight cars contain: tombstones for the young.”
——
Քեզ պէտք է հոգեփոխուել, իսկ դա նշանակում է, թէ դու պիտի դառնաս հակապատկերը հայրերիդ:
— Գարեգին Նժդեհ