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Khachik Manoukyan, from Six Armenian Poets


Time is of no essence here
Could be day or night,
A smoke-haired fag
Undresses near a memory.

A short old man
laughs and cries.
Has just caught a little fish
With which to present this wretch.

But why does the old man seem
To have no home to live in
The sky, that ceiling of the gypsy
Is what always allures him.

I call upon him to enter
But he shakes his head
Disappearing like a fish
In the depths of invisible waters.