Bedros Tourian | Michael
Nalbandian | Abp. Khorène Nar Bey De Lusignan
Mugurditch Beshiktashlian | Raphael Patkanian | Leo Alishan | St. Gregory of Narek
Nerses the Graceful | Saïat Nova | Djivan | Raffi | Koutcharian | Terzyan | Totochian
Damadian | Atom Yarjanian (Siamanto) | Daniel Varoujan | Archag Tchobanian
Hovhannes Toumanian | Hovhannes Hovhannessian | Zabel Assatour (Madame Sybil)
Mugurditch Chrimian Hairig | M. Portoukalian | Mihran Damadian
Arshag D. Mahdesian | Nahabed Koutchak | Shoushanig Khourghinian
Avedik Issahakian | Avedis Aharonian | Karekin Servantzdiantz | Bedros Adamian
Tigrane Yergate | Khorène M. Antreassian | Djivan | Miscellaneous songs and poems
KHORÈNE M. ANTREASSIAN.
TWILIGHT’S last ray is fading from the world;
Hushed are the varied sounds of grief and mirth;
And, like a jealous consort, exiled Night
Is now returning to embrace the earth.
Sitting beside the open window here,
Mine eyes are fixed upon the sweet bouquet
Whose myriad petals silently repose,
Leaning fair head to head, in loving way.
Thou art not mine, thou beautiful bouquet,
That seemest mystic sentiments to teach;
Unknown to me the hand that gathered here
These flowers, which once were strangers each to each.
Yet over me a nameless sadness steals,
As, dreaming silently, I gaze on thee;
And in my stormy heart old thoughts awake,
And many a sweet, soul-moving memory.
Thou hast a secret that I cannot pierce.
Perchance an ardent message from some heart
Thou hidest deep among thy petals fair;
Interpreter of silent thoughts thou art.
With thy rich hues, so stainless and so bright,
Thou stirrest my sad soul victoriously.
Full many a long and dreary year has passed
Since any friend bestowed a flower on me.
Not for this only, on this foreign shore,
Thou movest me with memories of the past;
Thou dost evoke a question from my heart—
A question sorrowful, profound and vast.
These flowers of many hues bloomed far apart,
And each unknown to each, until this day;
Yet with what ease they here unite to form
A lovely and harmonious bouquet!
A hand, a gentle hand, collected them,
And now without complaint, without a care,
They wait their fate together, lip to lip,
Till the last sleep shall overtake them there.
Ah, why from this world’s garden great
When human flowers together meet and stay—
Flowers differing in fragrance, form and hue—
Seldom can they unite in a bouquet?
Russian poetry translated by Alice Stone Blackwell
Blackwell, Alice Stone. Armenian Poems, Rendered into English Verse.
Boston, MA: Atlantic Printing Company, 1917