LA DUIUBELL
To the ganun player Marianna Gevorgyan – winner of the Grand Prize at the international compe-tition-festival World Folk Vision 2020, recipient of the Global Icon Awards 2025 world symbol title, and first-place laureate of numerous prestigious international com-petitions.
She works as a solo anun performer with the Komitas Chamber Music House and the “Tagharan” Ensemble of Ancient Music (artistic director: Honored Cultural Figure of the Republic of Armenia Sedrak Yerkanyan).
… We met by chance.
She had just achieved a remarkable victory on the world stage — surpassing nearly four thousand participants from 115 countries and bringing the Grand Prize home to Armenia.
A gifted and delicate artist, Marianna Georgyan is a unique ambassador of Armenian folk music. For years, through her qanun, she has carried the most subtle shades and emotions of Armenian songs and melodies to audiences in halls around the world, always preserving the quiet dignity characteristic of truly exceptional artists.
Leaving the judgment of her art to audiences of different nations, she always strives to fulfill one essential mis-sion: since the language of music is understood by everyone, and since the music she presents carries the sacred dreams and aspirations of her people, it must reach hearts through strings as sensitive and refined as her own – strings from which light seems to radiate with every touch. This becomes especially meaningful when she becomes the interpreter of the words and melodies of the great lover-poet Sayat-Nova, bringing his im- mortal art to the listener. Great music — especially when presented with such extraordinary mastery — is that magical, invis- ible key that opens the doors of the soul and the heart. It guides us toward a brighter and kinder world, a place where ignorance and greed are rejected, a place from which forgotten reminders of beauty return to us — the beauty we once failed to understand, or per- haps simply stopped feeling, leaving it somewhere halfway along the road. And what treasures lie hidden within the delicate strings of the qanun — treasures that awaken beneath the touch of fingers, suddenly capturing you in their sweet embrace and surrounding your entire being. A melody born in the mind passes through the heart and is entrusted to the gentle strings. And for more than three centuries, the words and melodies of the great Sayat-Nova have remained a translation of the same divine feeling and sacred emotion. Each time the string glows and trembles beneath the touch of her fingers, it becomes clear that it is not merely producing sound — it is speaking in place of a heart that has fallen silent, carrying the precious words that are so difficult to say. And once those words are spoken aloud, they begin to live forever — giving life to others. The strings blazed beneath the kiss of her fingers, and suddenly the word became a song. A forgotten ancient melody blossomed, and longing struck against every wall. From every touch, light is born; in the song, the willow tree sighs. A girl — a young green reed, stands upon your path like destiny. Appearing like fate, she calls and smiles, awakening dreams and aching memories. What does your heart whisper? Have you truly found what you seek, or are you once again losing what you found? Dream and illusion have merged together, there is no past, no present anymore. The words have fallen silent, the strings tremble, and love is born — with light as its witness. …Would the great Komitas, the humble devotee who translated the thoughts and dreams of Armenian villagers and wanderers into song, ever have imag- ined that years later, in the Arme- nian capital of Yerevan, a cultural sanctuary bearing his name would rise — a place where pure and crystal-clear divine melodies would resound? And that the one bringing those melo- dies to listeners would be a young artist whose delicate fingers could make the strings of the qanun perform miracles. …The hall remained frozen in silence, still holding onto the final echoes of the melody. An unfinished love story seemed to have broken away from the music itself, floating above the heads of the audience, searching for a place to settle. The burning longing carried through the strings had blossomed and seemed to hurry somewhere far away. Where? Perhaps toward the call of “Enchanted Flowers” — toward the ladybird resting upon the blue cornflower, holding tightly to its petals; toward the bouquets of wild- flowers scattered across the fields, each carrying within its heart the one and only most important line. And from the winds born in the moun- tains, from the evening whispers of flow- ers, there would emerge a special creation written for Marianna Gevorgyan — “The Hymn of the Mother of God” — rising like a prayer beneath the gentle touch of the qanun player’s fingers, climbing upward along the moss-covered golden stone walls of the church that had carried centuries of history within itself: Like a radiant sunbeam, like a stream of golden light, fragrant myrrh flows within you. A wondrous paradise built for us, adorned with heavenly beauty, with an ethereal crown of splendor, where the four-sided altar stands, crowned with four woven ornaments, and filled with countless miracles. …Then suddenly, applause erupted. Within minutes, the front of the stage was completely covered with white and red roses. Amid the endless gratitude and humble ad- miration of the audience, a fragment of a long- gone day seemed to awaken and hang in the air. And the ladybird, separated from the melody and gently touching the petals of a blue corn- flower, seemed like a messenger arriving from afar, carrying an important story. Perhaps it was telling the story of the girl who appeared, shone brightly, and though she passed like a fleeting moment, continues to live in the most unforgettable song. A LIGHT GIRL WITH THE SCENT OF AL- MOND BLOSSOMS Wipe away your tears, girl, the almond tree has awakened — look. Your eyes have borrowed its beauty and bloomed while looking at you. It has dressed itself in white and pink, tying a ribbon across the fields. It gave its nectar to the bee, and its petals to the wings of the wind. The bee will carry away the nectar, the petals will live in books. Somewhere, longing will burn, and memories will live within a heart. Do not grieve so deeply, girl of almond blossom fragrance. Spring has come, love is blooming — wipe away your tears, sweet girl. Tigran Nikoghosyan Honored Journalist of the Republic of Armenia. Photographs by Tony Luk, Honorary Photographer of Hong Kong balet. Translated from Armenian to English by Yeva Grigoryan.
