Tag: poem

August 24, 2021: “Good Morning, Nightmare.”

Chris KhatschLeave a comment

Good morning, nightmare.
Work begins in 30 minutes.

I’m in my flip-flops, standing near the stove, waiting for the water to boil.
I’m holding a mug that contains grains of instant coffee and sands of time.
A spoon leans idly in the mug.
When the time comes, it will stir up things.
But not now.

Work
from
home.

Work
starts
now.

Silent mode: off.
A big mistake.
I start receiving notifications.
“I am following up on…”
“I am waiting for the…”
“When will we be able to…”
“Can you please…”
“It’s urgent.”

I wish I could find a way out
of this dystopia.

Silent mode: on.
A bad idea.
But it will give me five minutes
to be myself.

Have a Cigar: Umnum Canonazo

Chris Khatsch1 Comment

Name: Umnum Canonazo

Country: Nicaragua

Shape: Parejo

Size: Robusto (5 1/4 inches x 52)

Strength: Medium to Full

The Umnum Canonazo is a medium-bodied cigar, leathery and earthy, perfect for casual hangouts and night outs.

I smoked mine while I enjoyed a couple of glasses of Johnnie Walker Black Label with my fiancée at a place called BistroBar Live in Dbayeh. I feel you can also pair Umnum Canonazo with a simple gin cocktail like gin basil or gin tonic. But I’ll have to try that another time.

Cigars are something, aren’t they?
While some find it rude
or disrespectful
when you light one in their presence,
the cigar actually humanizes its smoker.

Fire and smoke.
Thinking and thoughts.

You can gaze into the red eye,
and you can read the words in the rising smoke.

“I accomplished something, and this is my reward.”
“I need a break, and this is it.”
“Stay away! I need time to think.”
And sometimes, “Let’s converse
and lick each other’s thoughts.”

A cigar every now and then will do you good.
Don’t be afraid to burn your hourly rate on a night out,
and, on special occasions,
burn your daily wage bravely.
Taste a good cigar! You deserve it.

“Little Lake” by Bedros Tourian

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

Little Lake

Why are you stunned, little lake?
Your wavelets are not in motion.
Is it that a beautiful woman
Wistfully looked in your mirror?

Or is it that your wavelets
Are admiring the blue of the sky
And those shining clouds
That look like your foam?

My melancholic little lake,
Let us be friends.
Like you, I, too, love
To be alone, silent, meditative.

How many waves you have…
My forehead holds that many thoughts.
How many foam flakes you have…
My heart has that many wounds.

Even if heaven’s constellations
Fall in your lap
You, you cannot match
my soul, whose fire is infinite.

There, the stars do not die.
The flowers, there, don’t decay.
The clouds don’t form rain
When you and the air are calm.

Little lake, you are my queen!
Let the wind gust through my wrinkles.
Again, in your exciting depths,
You hold me, trembling.

Many have rejected me,
“He only has a lyre,” they said.
Someone: “He trembles; he is pale.”
Another one: “He will die.”

No one said, “This boy’s
sorrowful heart, let’s tear it
To see what is written there…”
There, there is fire, not a book.

There is ashes… a memory…
Let your wavelets move, little lake,
Because a despairing man
Stared into you.