Kitabı oxu: «Poems of Mugurdich Beshiktashlian», səhifə 3

 
In tender hours of love !
But not my country’s bird thou art.
Sing elsewhere! Deaf to thee my heart.
 
 
With what a gentle murmur,
O brook, thy current flows,
Reflecting in its mirror clear
The maiden and the rose !
But not my native stream thou art.
Flow past! thou canst hot charm my heart
 
 
Though over ruins linger
Armenia’s bird and breeze,
And though Armenia’s turbid stream
Creeps ’mid the cypress-trees,
They voice thy sighs, and from my heart.
My country, they shall not depart!
 

3. A BRAVE SON OF ARMENIA

 
THERE leaned against a gravestone
Upon a mountain steep,
A fair-haired youth of gallant mien,
Who mused in sorrow deep.
 
 
His eyes now sought the heavens,
And now the earth below.
Son of the hills and valleys,
Why dost thou sorrow so ?
 
 
Dost thou desire, to soothe thee,