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#ArtsakhPoemsOnHPem | 'New Navasardian, a sullen ode' (Artsakh trilogy, #2) by Harasharzh

November 25, 2020


By Harasharzh


#ArtsakhPoemsOnHPem | 'New Navasardian, a sullen ode' (Artsakh trilogy, #2) by Harasharzh

"New Navasardian, a Sullen Ode" is Harasharzh's second poem published by h-pem.

The poet addresses Daniel Varoujan, a martyr of the Armenian Genocide, looking for wisdom in his eponymous pagan song, while the Artskah war is entering its most virulent phase. Resilience in dealing with loss remains an amorphous mix of grim sacrifice and hope, as the poet evokes the ancient gods of Armenian mythology, and challenges Varoujan in his optimism about the nation's future. 

Writer's name Harasharzh

Poet; Writer; Professor

City/Country United States
About the writer
  • A diasporan Armenian that took three decades to connect and immerse himself in his culture
  • Started Liminal Armenian on Instagram in order to publicize his journey through Armenian mythology, art, literature, poetry, and a dash of history
  • Writes under Harasharzh as his pen-name

New Navasardian, a Sullen Ode*

How are we to greet this Autumn, Varoujan?
Cloistered away from cluster bombs,
bunker walls bouncing back our cries
surface to surface, stone to stone—
chorus of collapsing church rooves.

Will we be reborn from these ruins, Varoujan?
Our historic rite and claim
as Anahit’s claws dig deep into Spadaramet’s flesh,
blackened by its fertile dirt—
bowel of war’s unceasing ide.

Where is Anahit’s golden altar, Varoujan?
With whose blood do we dress it?
With what fire do we frame it?
Her hunting dog wails close by, mournful—
"Hov Arek Sarer" deaf to Spandaramet’s sepulchral ears.

How far have the pomegranate seeds scattered, Varoujan?
The sour taste of guns and crosses,
martyrs held close to native earth;
unable to collect the corpses—
invited instead to course Spandaramet’s veins.

You are fed, O Shadow of the Soil,
uncompromising host to thousands of fallen soldiers and counting.
Cups crimson though not with wine,
drunk from the dead, overflowing and frantic—
spilling and staining our soul’s silent edge.


*Author's note

“New Navasardian, a Sullen Ode” is the second poem in what I’m currently calling my “Artsakh Trilogy,” the first having been the poem “Vaspurakan’s Echo.”  In this piece, I am responding directly to Daniel Varoujan’s  pagan manifesto poem “Navasardian,” and to a lesser extent his pagan song celebrating Anahit. The tone is markedly darker than in “Vaspurakan’s Echo,” as I believe Armenia and  Artsakh’s Autumn, which should have been a time of great celebration and reflection, has now been co-opted by the cruelty of war. That said, I am evoking the powerful image of one of our old deities, Spandaramet, to draw a strong contrast against Anahit. According to various sources, Spandaramet represents both the fertility of the earth and the fact that it’s a resting place for the dead. All of the earth was her symbol, but it became synonymous with Hades/Hell in pre-Christian Armenia. In a time of war, the vision of Spandaramet is more accurate than that of Anahit. Our soldiers and our people are experiencing a kind of hell on earth shortly before they join the soil itself. I believe, as this poem is part of a trilogy and occupies the middle position, it should be the one that feels the most hopeless. It is how I, and many others, feel. It doesn’t mean, however, that we will only ever feel this way.

I am attaching Varoujan’s original “Navasardian” as well to reference.


 Visual design: @liminal_armenian Visual design: @liminal_armenian

















Read Harasharzh's "Vaspurakan's Echo." 


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