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I beheld my Love this Morning, by Sayat Nova
(1712-1795) I BEHELD my love this morning, in the garden paths she strayed,All brocaded was the ground with prints her golden pattens made ;Like the nightingale, I warbled round my rose with wings displayed,And I wept, my reason faltered, while my heart was sore dismayed.Grant, O Lord, that all my foemen to such grief may…