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PASSWORDS By Diana Der-Hovanessian We don't need a huge vocabulary. Say "Dikran" and the walls of Dikranagerd rise. Say "Ani" and a hundred church bells peal in a wild shower of sound. Say "Der Zor" and the Euphrates sinks to a dried blood dusty bed. With "Yerevan" multi-colored fountains bloom. Say "tsaks" and your mother's smile crosses time like light. ARMENIAN The name does not mean much to us. We call ourselves Hai after Noah's great, great, grandson. We come from Noah"s valley. And his mountain Ararat belongs to us. We laugh under our Hittite noses when others talk about old families, knowing our line goes back to the Garden of Eden in the Tigris valley. and when you say American we think you mean us. After all like the Pilgrims our ancestors came here for freedom, for refuge. When you say Armenian we look around for the Thracian tribe who joined us long ago. We call ourselves Hai. Reprinted from Any Day Now, poems by DDH Sheep Meadow Press 1999 -- Diana Der-Hovanessian is a New England born poet is the author of nine volumes of translations from the Armenian, one from Romanian, and several of her own works including the newly published THE SECOND QUESTION from Sheep Meadow Press.