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MinasianThis film does not attempt
to tell the life story of a poet.
Rather, the filmmaker has tried
to recreate the poet's inner world
through the trepidations of his soul,
his passion and torments,
widely utilizing
the symbolism and allegories
specific to the tradition of Medieval
Armenian poet troubadours (Ashough).
THE COLOR OF POMEGRANATES
I am the man whose life
and soul are torture.
I am the man whose life
and soul are torture.
I am the man whose life
and soul are torture.
I am the man whose life
and soul are torture.
Poet's childhood
In the beginning, God created
heaven and earth.
On the sixth day, God said...
"Now We shall create man...
according to Our image
and likeness. "
And God created man
according to his image.
According to His image
God created him.
And the Lord God created man
from the dust of the earth...
and blew into him the breath of life,
and Man became a living soul.
And God took the man he created...
And made him live in the Garden of Eden...
so that Man would till the earth...
and tend the Garden.
And the Lord instructed him
and said...
Many have come ahead of me,
and vaguely known this amazing world,
they have extinguished and expired
ahead of me.
Books must be well kept and read,
for books are Soul and Life.
Without books, the world would
have witnessed nothing but ignorance.
You should read aloud for the people
to hear, in benefit of their souls...
since many are unable
to read what is written.
From the colors and aromas
of this world,
my childhood made a poet's lyre
and offered it to me.
Saint George, we implore you,
let your good fortune, your kind thoughts...
spread over our family, on our people,
along with your white horse...
be a stronghold for our people,
give prosperity to this family.
Give them good thoughts
and prosperity.
Poet's youth
We were searching for ourselves
in each other.
The river has overflown its banks.
Poet at the court
A prayer before hunting.
We were searching for a place
of refuge for our love,
but instead, the road led us
to the land of the dead.
You abandoned us and went away,
but we the living wrapped you...
in a cocoon, so in your new world
you would burst out like a butterfly.
How am I to protect my
wax built castles of love...
from the devouring heat
of your fires?
You are fire.
Your dress is fire...
You are fire.
Your dress is fire...
You are fire.
Your dress is fire...
You are fire.
Your dress is fire...
You are fire.
Your dress is black...
Which of these two fires
can I endure?
I am a nightingale trapped in a foreign land,
and you are my golden cage.
Poet leaves for the monastery.
The wedding merriment, the sadness,
the festive singing are all here.
And they shall never leave this place,
if we respect the path of spirit.
What is your name?
What is your name?
Aroutin.
Beautiful one, come quickly,
quickly come, or beautiful one,
Come on, beautiful one,
come you, beautiful one...
Kotcha...
Hey, Kotcha...
Godfather!
What is your ward's name?
Aroutin.
Aroutin...Matakh (an offering)
We have slain the sacrificial lamb,
boiled the meat...
and distributed it in seven plates.
Come hither, come...
Come hither, come...
Catholicos' death
Brothers of mine in soul and blood,
Heaven has sent upon us
to this world, grief... grief... grief...
Brothers of mine in soul and blood,
grief, inconsolable grief has been
sent to us from Heaven today.
On this night of revelations
at Etchmiadzin,
died our Saint Father Lazarus,
Catholicos of all Armenians...
Brothers of mine in soul and blood,
Heaven has sent upon us
to this world, grief... grief... grief...
Brothers of mine in soul and blood,
grief has been sent to us
from Heaven, grief... grief... grief...
Brothers of mine in soul and blood,
grief... grief... grief...
Grief is sent to us from heaven
today at Etchmiadzin;
During this night
of the revelation of Saint Sarkis,
our Holy Father Lazarus, Catholicos

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