To my Native Home
Tonight I had a sweet dream:
rebuilding the home of my childhood,
The sky of my childhood spread over my
And rising dawns shed color in my soul.
My mother was there, her face glowed bright,
stream chattered away in my native tongue,
An ancient tree stirred in the
It was all so familiar, all so like spring.
The sunbeam that slid from the rooftop
Seemed to be
my soul's golden key;
The sun looked down with a motherly warmth,
world was sweet and knowable.
About The Poet
Zarian, a contemporary of Charents, Mahari, and Pagounts was, like Mahari, a
native of Van. After the massacres he spent his childhood in Yerevan orphanages.
He continued his education at the Yerevan State University, graduating in 1927.
After four years of editorial work he attended (1931 to 1933) the University of
Leningrad. Then in Yerevan he became secretary of the Writers' Union. He
published novels and plays in addition to several books of poetry.
Zarian was a tragic figure and may be called
the last victim of the era of Stalin's cult of personality. All his life rumors
circulated, neither proved nor completely disproved, accusing him of betraying
fellow writers to the secret police. Ironically, his article, "The Dark Legend,"
which he felt would clear his name, was not published until the year of his
death, and it was published in the diaspora, in Beirut's Naiyiri Magazine.