Kitabı oxu: «Poems of Mugurdich Beshiktashlian», səhifə 2

 
And rolled them down the steep.
Red was the stain our rocks did wear ;
Then joyful news to Zeitoun bear !
 
 
Our fathers’ ghosts applauded;
Our old fire is not dead !
Our slaughtered kin rejoiced to see
The blood of vengeance shed.
Mount Ararat the joy did share ;
Mother, glad news to Zeitoun bear!
 
 
Take my last kiss, my mother,
And bear it to my love;
A kiss, too, for my native soil,
That now my tomb must prove.
Plant thou a cross above me there,
And joyful news to Zeitoun bear !
 

2. SPRING

 
How cool and sweet, O breeze of morn,
Thou stirrest in the air,
Caressing soft the dewy flowers,
The young girl’s clustering hair !
But not my country’s breeze thou art.
Blow past! thou canst not touch my heart.
 
 
How sweetly and how soulfully
Thou singest from the grove,
O bird, while men admire thy voice