Armenian Legends and Poems 3
MY HEART IS TURNED INTO A WAILING CHILD
By N. KOUCHAK
(Fifteenth Century)
My heart is turned into a wailing child,
In vain with sweets I seek to still its cries;
Sweet love, it calls for thee in sobbings wild
All day and night, with longing and with sighs.
What solace can I give it?
I showed my eyes the fair ones of this earth
And tried to please them—but I tried in vain.
Sweet love, for them all those were nothing worth—
Thee—only thee my heart would have again.
What solace can I give it?
O NIGHT, BE LONG
By N. KOUCHAK
O Night, be long—long as an endless year!
Descend, thick darkness, black and full of fear!
To-night my heart’s desire has been fulfilled—
My love is here at last—a guest concealed!
Dawn, stand behind seven mountains—out of sight,
Lest thou my loved one banish with thy light;
I would for ever thus in darkness rest
So I might ever clasp him to my breast.
BLACK EYES
By AVETIS ISAHAKIAN
(Born 1875)
Do not trust black eyes, but fear them:—
Gloom they are, and endless night;
Woes and perils lurking near them—
Love not thou their gleaming bright!
In my heart a sea of blood wells,
Called up by their cruel might,
No calm ever in that flood dwells—
Love not thou their gleaming bright!
YESTERNIGHT I WALKED ABROAD
ANONYMOUS
Yesternight I walked abroad.
From the clouds sweet dews were falling,
And my love stood in the road,
All in green, and to me calling.
To her home she led me straight,
Shut and barred the gate securely;
Whoso tries to force that gate
Brave I’ll reckon him most surely!
In the garden she did go,
Gathered roses dewed with showers;
Some she gave her lover, so
He might lay his face in flowers.
Garments loose and snowy breast,
I slipped in her bosom tender
And I found a moment’s rest,
Clasped within those arms so slender.
Then I raised my hands above—
Grant, O Lord, that I wake never;
On the bosom of my love
May I live and die forever!
What have I from this world gained?
What advantage gathered ever?
For the hunt my falcon trained
I let fly—it went forever!
Ah, my falcon, woe the day!
Tell me, whither art thou flying?
I will follow all the way—
Since thou wentest I am dying.
I am ill, and near my end—
With an apple [2] hasten to me.
I shall curse thee if thou send
Strange physicians to undo me.
No physicians strange for me—
All my griefs in thee I centre.
Come and take my bosom’s key,
Open wide the door and enter.
Once again I say, ’twas not
I that came—’twas thy love brought me.
In my heart thy love hath got
And its dwelling-place hath wrought me.
When the falcon hunger feels
Then he finds the game and takes it;
When love thirsts, the lover steals
Kisses from his love and slakes it.
But thou hold’st me with thy charms;
When I kiss thee thou dost bind me:
’Twas but now I left thine arms,
And my looks are turned behind me.
I am ever, for thy love,
Like the sands in summer, burning:
Looking up to heaven above,
For one little raindrop yearning.
I would kiss thy forehead chaste,
And thine eyes so brightly gleaming;
Fold mine arms about thy waist—
Thick with all thy garments seeming.
Oft and often have I said
For my love make garments shining:
Of the sun the facing red,—
Of the moon cut out the lining;
Pad it with yon storm-cloud dark,
Sewn with sea weed from the islets:
Stars for clasps must bring their spark—
Stitch me inside for the eyelets!
VAHAGN, KING OF ARMENIA
From the History of Armenia, by
MOSES OF KHORENE
(Fifth Century)
Concerning the birth of this king the legends say—
“Heaven and earth were in travail,
And the crimson waters were in travail.
And in the water, the crimson reed
Was also in travail.
From the mouth of the reed issued smoke,
From the mouth of the reed issued flame.
And out of the flame sprang the young child.
His hair was of fire, a beard had he of flame,
And his eyes were suns.”
With our own ears did we hear these words sung to the accompaniment of
the harp. They sing, moreover, that he did fight with the dragons, and
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