THE SONG OF THE STORK FOLK SONG Stork, I welcome thy return. Thou stork, I welcome thy return. Thy coming is the sign of spring, And thou dost joy and gladness bring. Stork, upon our roof descend. Thou stork, upon our roof descend. Upon our ash-tree build thy nest, Our dear one, and our honoured guest. Stork, I would complain to thee:— Yes, stork, I would complain to thee. A thousand sorrows I would tell, The griefs that in my bosom dwell. Stork, when thou our house didst leave,— When last our ash-tree thou didst leave, Cold, blasting winds the heavens filled, And all our smiling flowers were killed. Clouds obscured the brilliant sky; Dark clouds obscured the brilliant sky. Up there in flakes they broke the snow, And Winter killed the flowers below. From the mountain of Varag, From that great hill they call Varag, The snow did all the earth enfold:— In our green meadow it was cold. In our garden all was white. Our little garden all was white. Our tender rose-trees, fresh and green, All died of Winter’s frost-bite keen. YE MOUNTAIN BLUEBELLS By AVETIS ISAHAKIAN Ye mountain bluebells, weep with me, And flowers in coloured crowds; Weep, nightingale, on yonder tree,— Cool winds dropped from the clouds. All dark around the earth and sky, All lonely here I mourn. My love is gone,—light of my eye; I sob and weep forlorn. Alas, no more he cares for me— He left me unconsoled; He pierced my heart, then cruelly Left me in pain untold. Ye mountain bluebells, weep with me, And flowers in coloured crowds; Weep, nightingale, on yonder tree,— Cool winds dropped from the clouds. THE SUN WENT DOWN By AVETIS ISAHAKIAN The sun went down behind the hill, No light was on the lea, The fowls and birds slept calm and still, But sleep came not to me. The moon peeped in beneath the eaves, The Balance rose on high, The fresh night-wind that stirred the leaves Spoke to the starry sky. Ah, gentle winds and stars of light, Where is my love to-night? Ye painted eyes of heaven so bright,— Saw you my love to-night? Day dawned,—unbolted was our door:— The snowflakes whirled like foam, ’Tis cloud and storm, the wild winds roar— Why comes my love not home? BIRTHDAY SONG By NAHABED KOUCHAK On the morning of thy birth We were glad but thou wert wailing, See that when thou leav’st the earth Thou art glad and we bewailing. Let me speak unto thy heart,— List if thou hast understanding; Keep thyself from fools apart, All their flatteries withstanding. For the fool, like fire and heat, Scorcheth everything, and burneth; But the wise, like water sweet, Deserts into gardens turneth. MORNING By HAROUTUNE TOUMANIAN