136 years ago, on February 9, 1885, in the family of a rural priest in the village of Gandza near Akhalkalaki, the great Armenian poet Vaan Teriaan was born.
In 1899, Vaan enters the Lazarevian Institute of Oriental Languages in Moscow. Together with friends, Tereyan publishes a handwritten newspaper "Nadezhda", in which not only performs with editorial articles and editorialgers, but also heads the department of poetry, where he publishes its poems under the pseudonyms of Schwen, Volo, etc. In August 1906, Tryan enters Moscow University, to the Russian language and literature of the historical and philological faculty. Under the direct influence of the revolution of 1905-1907, he writes the cycle of the "Ternist Crown" poems, which glorifies the wrestlers of the revolution. On the night of December 3, 1906, the apartment of Terya was being searched, he and his friend were arrested, but on December 13, he was freed from custody. During this period, Tryanyan wrote an "Estonian song", "Autumn Song", "Autumn Melody", "Wonderful Girl", "Skoronize me at sunset", "desire" and other poems. Poetry of Teryaan with its finest lyricism, the penetration of feelings, the exceptional musicality and wealth of the language is the largest phenomenon in the history of Armenian literature.
In 1908, his first collection of poems "dreams of twilight" was published in Tiflis. The collection received good reviews from Avetika Isaakyan and Ovasnes Tumanyan.
In 1910, in parallel with study at Moscow University, Tryanya edits and publishes the literary and artistic almanac "Garun" ("Spring"). In 1915, Maxim Gorky instructed Triande compilation of the Armenian Collection, which was published in Moscow. In the same year, he writes the patriotic cycle "Country of Nairy".
Valery Bryusov translated a number of poems poems and called him the "most prominent figure" among young poets of "Russian Armenia".
Without surviving a month before his 35th anniversary, Vaan Teriaan died on January 7, 1920 from tuberculosis.
Armenian songs I hear again, songs that so on sobbing look like. Their, alien, you do not understand, they will not understand them, alien, you too.
Sad, and mournful, and bitter they are monotonous, but as melodious, heart, burned grief, akin to, spirit, burned pain, are familiar.
Poor villages with us, and everywhere dark faces with sadness in gaze, all our people in hopeless misfortune, our whole life is hopeless grief.
How do we in the songs do not moan, in the songs, so on the sobbing look like? Their, alien, you do not understand, they will not understand them, alien, you too.
Translation N. Chukovsky