Hrach Beyleryan. Poems translated into English by Marine Petrossian. Armenian P.E.N. Centre Almanac, 2001

Hrach Beyleryan

In the heart of the forest I encountered Pan —
Nervous he was and unfinished,
Out of his mouth was jutting a pair of fangs,
The full moon on his shoulder was pock-marked.

Greenish was his goatee standing on end —
Grown when in his mother’s womb;
Heavy steps taken by his goat’s foot
Made resound the disc of the moon.

The echoes took leaves down the trees,
Then faded and died away.
The ladybird came rolling down his cheek
Like a tear — salty and red.

All at once an iris fainted under my feet
(The horror was a blind foundling),
Scared by hysterical chirping of crickets
Out of the ears of deity.

With a painful grimace of an old rheumatic
Pan gestured to make known he was pacific,
Then he told me the story of Syrinx,
And his voice was darkly vibrating.

Next he played his syrinx to revive the iris,
Shepherding the flock of mist;
He plucked the dandelion and blew it up
Into many a star in the darkness.

Suddenly Pan vanished out of sight:
A shaggy deity — he was one with the forest,
A clumsy shape — he was one with the mist.
And I no more ever could see him.