THE DAY AFTER
They killed us ,because we were Armenians.
They forced us out of our homes and towns.
Our throats were cut; we were burned alive and starved,
Only one body in a museum was to be preserved.
Men were killed, women were raped and children enslaved.
As we watched the death of a nation permanently engraved.
The world had turned its back on us as did god,
As we were covered under oblivion and blood.
Dark clouds upon us, our tears got mixed up with the rain
Even Hitler promised no one would remember our name.
But we survived to tell the world of our genocide,
Ottomans were guilty, Turkey no longer can hide.
Through all of the wounds, devastation, and frost,
We survived to be a proof that ‘they have lost,
As we’re still here and we still smile and we still grow,
And everywhere in the world our culture will flow.
They’ve lost because we stood up again,
Demanding for our blood not to spill in vain.
They’ve lost because everywhere that we went…
We left a good mark; we still create and invent.
They’ve lost as long as our music is heard
As long as Aram’s Sabres are stirred.
As long as Giovann’s melancholia is here
And Arno’s elegia is a reflection of our tear.
For as long as Cher believes in “life after love”
And his heritage is what Aznavour is proud of.
For as long as Loris is waving his hands,
And System of a Down is the king of rock bands,
They lost when they made Komitas immortal Just as Rosy’s and Gohar’s voices are eternal.
They’ve lost for they wore black and Levon was white,
And Tigran and Gary never went down without a fight.
Arthur celebrates wins the Armenian style,
As Nazik lifts weights with her delicate smile.
They’ve lost for the world of tennis can never forget,
David’s magic nor Andreh’s final set.
They’ve lost for Andranik is the captain of Iran,
And Dortmund means nothing, without Mkhitarian.
They lost when “Les Blues” avec Allen and Youri
Won the world Cup and made football history.
Alain Prost the fast, Tarkanian the smart,
Enough of sports, let’s talk about art.
Vanush choreographed and gave us instruction,
As we danced our way out of pain and destruction.
Here’s Victoria now and her graceful spins in ballet,
Davit and Vanessa, and a standing ovation in Bay.
Flashback to Karsh taking portraits of Churchill and Warhol,
As the Iranian highland was captured by Nicole.
Arshil’s grim brush reflects on his memories of Van,
Yet a colorful Armenia on canvas of Saryan.
Our stories though bitter, are sweetened with our wit
Read Sevag or Karapents and you’ll probably admit!
Vardan storms the stage as William Saroyan,
Tells the world how it feels to meet another Armenian.
As Zailian won the Oscar for a story of holocaust,
We could see that Turkey too, will pay back the cost.
And even before Akin had Martin back with “The Cut”
Atom responded to deniers with his “Ararat”
Peleshian documenting the seasons of homeland, Frunzik’s nose becoming an Armenian brand.
Parajanov ‘s self expression through film and collage,
Mamoulian’s inventive techniques of montage
As Verneuil’s “Mayrik” showed our pain of displacement.
Guediguian’s “Une histoire de fou” is a modern day statement.
Eric will soon unveil his follow-up to “Operation Nemesis”,
It’s called “Price of Prejudice” and here’s the synopsis:
“Simon Abkarian is a hitman, searching with his gun
For a new monster that Serkis plays known as Erdughan!
The plot is about downfall of the Turkish dictator,
Who gets poisoned, eating Ken’s sausage later.
This is not hate speech! We demand acceptance!
For we’re not a nation thirsty of vengeance.
For as long as we live and as long as we create
Turkey is guilty despite lies they fabricate.
A path to reconciliation is as bright as the day,
For as long as Hrant Dink is showing us the way.
As long as we have our own Peter and Paul,
We can think on our own and stop being irrational,
For as long as Maria lectures the art of reason
And Christopher reveals the internet’s prison,
As long as Alexis celebrates his birthday,
And Nancy and Peter promise a new day,
As long as Conan does the Armenian sway
And Adam Noorian’s story is getting on its way…
Good old Rubens’s songs will keep playing in our head
And with Tumanian’s tales are kids will go to bed
We shall from now on celebrate April twenty five To show everyone, that we are still alive!
THE DAY AFTER