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Azniv Sahakyan, from Six Armenian Poets

Spring is a throb of blue...

Spring is a throb of blue
All over,
An approaching scent
Is scattering petals
Pink, in places.
The tree is caressed by the air
The earth is sprinkled over...
The water is rowing in the mind,
Light, in the water.
The writing movement
Is a long whisper...
The line has come
I’m bearing fruit again
And there is a sky above me.
There are hands, branches reaching out to me,
The day is besieged with joy,
My heart, coloured,
Life is drinkable all day.
It’s spring...