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Translating Literatures:

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Dear readers,

A few months ago, I started a blog to post my attempts at translating some of my favorite Armenian literature into English. I hope you enjoy these stories as much as I enjoyed translating them!

I would also like to give a special shout-out to SAS and Kars, among others, without whom I would have never been able to complete these translations. I truly hope that they will continue to dedicate their time and effort to helping me decipher linguistic peculiarities in Armenian literature.


Edited by paran
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For those who are curious, these are the stories I have posted on the blog so far, with excerpts (all of them so far are stories by Aksel Bakunts):

"Dark Valley" by Aksel Bakunts:

"The only path leading to Dark Valley closes off with the first snowfall--until spring, no one sets foot in its forests. However, even now there are dense forests in Dark Valley where no one has ever been. Trees fall, decay, and in their fallen places new ones grow. Bears dance and whistle like shepherds; wolves howl, pointing their snouts to the moon; boars dig the black earth with their tusks, gathering autumn’s rotten acorns."



"Vandunts Badi" by Aksel Bakunts:

"Badi had a patriarchal demeanor and temper, but he was honest and righteous. He wanted for his child to follow the same path, to be hospitable, to love tradition, to respect his elders, and to be a well-mannered man in the village.

And then one day in the pasture, after a conversation, Habud asked his father a question:

“Dad, why is it that in our herd the Isanants have nine cows, but we only have one?”"



"In Akar" by Aksel Bakunts:

"Sandukht was wearing a new dress. Whenever the wind fluttered the flaps of her dress, her heart grew wider. But as soon as she saw Ohan’s son, her joy would instantly subside; she would pull back and draw into her coat like a snail’s tentacles."



"On Mount Ayu's Slope" by Aksel Bakunts:

"Peti felt a sort of vibrant bliss at the beginning of spring. Like the brooklets that were formed from the melting snow, the blood in his veins seethed quicker, and he laughed, gurgling at the same time. He was no different than a horse neighing in delight when its stable is replenished with golden barley."



"Apricot Field" by Aksel Bakunts:

"Apricot Field would have nothing of value to be remembered by had it not been stuck between the endless fights of the two villages Mir and Mrots, had it not been a topic of discussion and contention, and had the two neighboring villages, Mir and Mrots, not fought each other countless times with clubs over the course of years."


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