I am ill, and near my end— With an apple [2] hasten to me. I shall curse thee if thou send Strange physicians to undo me. No physicians strange for me— All my griefs in thee I centre. Come and take my bosom’s key, Open wide the door and enter. Once again I say, ’twas not I that came—’twas thy love brought me. In my heart thy love hath got And its dwelling-place hath wrought me. When the falcon hunger feels Then he finds the game and takes it; When love thirsts, the lover steals Kisses from his love and slakes it. But thou hold’st me with thy charms; When I kiss thee thou dost bind me: ’Twas but now I left thine arms, And my looks are turned behind me. I am ever, for thy love, Like the sands in summer, burning: Looking up to heaven above, For one little raindrop yearning. I would kiss thy forehead chaste, And thine eyes so brightly gleaming; Fold mine arms about thy waist— Thick with all thy garments seeming. Oft and often have I said For my love make garments shining: Of the sun the facing red,— Of the moon cut out the lining; Pad it with yon storm-cloud dark, Sewn with sea weed from the islets: Stars for clasps must bring their spark— Stitch me inside for the eyelets! VAHAGN, KING OF ARMENIA From the History of Armenia, by MOSES OF KHORENE (Fifth Century) Concerning the birth of this king the legends say— “Heaven and earth were in travail, And the crimson waters were in travail. And in the water, the crimson reed Was also in travail. From the mouth of the reed issued smoke, From the mouth of the reed issued flame. And out of the flame sprang the young child. His hair was of fire, a beard had he of flame, And his eyes were suns.” With our own ears did we hear these words sung to the accompaniment of the harp. They sing, moreover, that he did fight with the dragons, and overcame them; and some say that his valiant deeds were like unto those of Hercules. Others declare that he was a god, and that a great image of him stood in the land of Georgia, where it was worshipped with sacrifices. HUNTSMAN, THAT ON THE HILLS ABOVE By AVETIS ISAHAKIAN “Huntsman, that on the hills above To hunt the deer hast been, Tell me, I pray thee, if my love— My wild deer thou hast seen? “He sought the hills his grief to quell— My darling love, my sun. He wandered out upon the fell, My flower, my only one.” “Maiden, I saw your lover true, All girt with red and green. Upon his breast a rose tree grew Where once your kiss had been.” “Huntsman, I pray, who is the bride Of my beloved, my sun? Who tends him, watching by his side, My flower, my only one?” “Maiden, I saw him with his head Upon a stone at rest. And for his love, a bullet red Into his heart was pressed.