Spring, by Mgrdich Beshigtashlian


O LITTLE breeze, how fresh and sweet
Thou blowest in the morning air !
Upon the flowers caressingly,
And on the gentle maiden’s hair.
But not my country’s breath thou art :
Blow elsewhere, come not near my heart !

O little bird among the trees,
The sweetness of thy joyful voice
Entrances all the Hours of Love,
And makes the listening woods rejoice.
But not my country’s bird thou art :
Sing elsewhere, come not near my heart !

How peacefully thou murmurest,
O gentle, limpid little brook ;
Within thy mirror crystal-bright
The rose and maiden bend to look.
But not my country’s brook thou art :
Flow elsewherecome not near my heart !

Although Armenia’s breeze and bird
Above a land of ruins fly ;
Although through mourning cypress groves
Armenia’s turbid stream flows by,
They are the sighing of her heart,
And never shall from mine depart !

Armenian legends and poems by Zabelle C. Boyajian and Aram Raffi, London & New York, 1916.

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