Latest posts

  • Spring, by Mgrdich Beshigtashlian

    (1829-1868) O LITTLE breeze, how fresh and sweetThou 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 voiceEntrances all the Hours of Love,And makes the listening…

    Read more