Читать книгу Poems of Mugurdich Beshiktashlian - Beshiktashlian Mugurdich - Страница 1

WHOM dost thou seek, sweet mother?

Come, tremble not, draw near!

Gaze on thy son’s blood-streaming wounds

Without a sigh or tear.

Let Turkish mothers rend their hair;

Do thou glad news to Zeitoun bear !

As, by my cradle, thou didst soothe

With tender hand and smile

My childish form to sleep, and sing

With angel voice the while,

Lay me to rest, without a care,

And joyful news to Zeitoun bear !

Red floods are welling from my wounds,

But, mother, look around;

See how the fierce blood-thirsty Turks

By thousands strew the ground !

Our swords devoured them, scattered there :

Then joyful news to Zeitoun bear!

They smote us like a dragon,

With sudden roaring deep;

But Zeitoun shook her rocky head,

And rolled them down the steep.

Red was the stain our rocks did wear ;

Then joyful news to Zeitoun bear !

Our fathers’ ghosts applauded;

Our old fire is not dead !

Our slaughtered kin rejoiced to see

The blood of vengeance shed.

Mount Ararat the joy did share ;