Armenian Literature

Longing

Tell me, brother, where is rest

From the flame that racks my breast

With its pain?

Fires unceasing sear my heart;

Ah, too long, too deep, the smart

To heal again.

When I'd pluck the roses sweet

Sharpest thorns my fingers greet;

Courage flies.

Since my love has humbled me,

Tyrant-like has troubled me,

'Spite my cries.

Health and joy have taken flight,

Prayer nor chant nor priestly rite

Do I prize.

Girl, my girl, my peerless one,

Radiant as Armenia's sun,

Beautiful Sanan!

Earth has none as fair as thou,

Nor can ages gone bestow

One like my Sanan.

Sixteen summers old is she,

Grace of slender pines has she,

Like the stars her eyes.

Lips, thrice blessed whom they kiss,

Brows as dark as hell's abyss,

And with sighs,

Her heart to win, her love alone,

What mighty prince from his high throne

Would not descend?

So I crave nor crown nor gold,

Longed-for One, I her would hold

Till time shall end.

RAPHAEL PATKANIAN.