THE WANDERING ARMENIAN TO THE SWALLOWBy C. A. DODOCHIANO swallow, gentle swallow,Thou lovely bird of spring!Say, whither art thou flyingSo swift on gleaming wing?Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,The spot I love the best;Beneath my father’s roof-tree,O swallow, build thy nest.There dwells afar my father,A mournful man and grey,Who for his only son’s returnWaits vainly, day by day.If thou shouldst chance to see him,Greet him with love from me;Bid him sit down and mourn with tearsHis son’s sad destiny.In poverty and loneliness,Tell him, my days are passed:My life is only half a life,My tears are falling fast.To me, amid bright daylight,The sun is dark at noon;To my wet eyes at midnightSleep comes not, late or soon.Tell him that, like a beauteous flowerSmit by a cruel doom,Uprooted from my native soil,I wither ere my bloom.Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,Across the quickening earth,And seek in fair ArmeniaThe village of my birth!Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.
THE WANDERING ARMENIAN TO THE SWALLOWBy C. A. DODOCHIANO swallow, gentle swallow,Thou lovely bird of spring!Say, whither art thou flyingSo swift on gleaming wing?Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,The spot I love the best;Beneath my father’s roof-tree,O swallow, build thy nest.There dwells afar my father,A mournful man and grey,Who for his only son’s returnWaits vainly, day by day.If thou shouldst chance to see him,Greet him with love from me;Bid him sit down and mourn with tearsHis son’s sad destiny.In poverty and loneliness,Tell him, my days are passed:My life is only half a life,My tears are falling fast.To me, amid bright daylight,The sun is dark at noon;To my wet eyes at midnightSleep comes not, late or soon.Tell him that, like a beauteous flowerSmit by a cruel doom,Uprooted from my native soil,I wither ere my bloom.Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,Across the quickening earth,And seek in fair ArmeniaThe village of my birth!Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.
THE WANDERING ARMENIAN TO THE SWALLOW
By C. A. DODOCHIANO swallow, gentle swallow,Thou lovely bird of spring!Say, whither art thou flyingSo swift on gleaming wing?Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,The spot I love the best;Beneath my father’s roof-tree,O swallow, build thy nest.There dwells afar my father,A mournful man and grey,Who for his only son’s returnWaits vainly, day by day.If thou shouldst chance to see him,Greet him with love from me;Bid him sit down and mourn with tearsHis son’s sad destiny.In poverty and loneliness,Tell him, my days are passed:My life is only half a life,My tears are falling fast.To me, amid bright daylight,The sun is dark at noon;To my wet eyes at midnightSleep comes not, late or soon.Tell him that, like a beauteous flowerSmit by a cruel doom,Uprooted from my native soil,I wither ere my bloom.Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,Across the quickening earth,And seek in fair ArmeniaThe village of my birth!Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.
By C. A. DODOCHIAN
O swallow, gentle swallow,Thou lovely bird of spring!Say, whither art thou flyingSo swift on gleaming wing?Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,The spot I love the best;Beneath my father’s roof-tree,O swallow, build thy nest.There dwells afar my father,A mournful man and grey,Who for his only son’s returnWaits vainly, day by day.If thou shouldst chance to see him,Greet him with love from me;Bid him sit down and mourn with tearsHis son’s sad destiny.In poverty and loneliness,Tell him, my days are passed:My life is only half a life,My tears are falling fast.To me, amid bright daylight,The sun is dark at noon;To my wet eyes at midnightSleep comes not, late or soon.Tell him that, like a beauteous flowerSmit by a cruel doom,Uprooted from my native soil,I wither ere my bloom.Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,Across the quickening earth,And seek in fair ArmeniaThe village of my birth!
O swallow, gentle swallow,Thou lovely bird of spring!Say, whither art thou flyingSo swift on gleaming wing?
O swallow, gentle swallow,
Thou lovely bird of spring!
Say, whither art thou flying
So swift on gleaming wing?
Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,The spot I love the best;Beneath my father’s roof-tree,O swallow, build thy nest.
Fly to my birthplace, Ashdarag,
The spot I love the best;
Beneath my father’s roof-tree,
O swallow, build thy nest.
There dwells afar my father,A mournful man and grey,Who for his only son’s returnWaits vainly, day by day.
There dwells afar my father,
A mournful man and grey,
Who for his only son’s return
Waits vainly, day by day.
If thou shouldst chance to see him,Greet him with love from me;Bid him sit down and mourn with tearsHis son’s sad destiny.
If thou shouldst chance to see him,
Greet him with love from me;
Bid him sit down and mourn with tears
His son’s sad destiny.
In poverty and loneliness,Tell him, my days are passed:My life is only half a life,My tears are falling fast.
In poverty and loneliness,
Tell him, my days are passed:
My life is only half a life,
My tears are falling fast.
To me, amid bright daylight,The sun is dark at noon;To my wet eyes at midnightSleep comes not, late or soon.
To me, amid bright daylight,
The sun is dark at noon;
To my wet eyes at midnight
Sleep comes not, late or soon.
Tell him that, like a beauteous flowerSmit by a cruel doom,Uprooted from my native soil,I wither ere my bloom.
Tell him that, like a beauteous flower
Smit by a cruel doom,
Uprooted from my native soil,
I wither ere my bloom.
Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,Across the quickening earth,And seek in fair ArmeniaThe village of my birth!
Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,
Across the quickening earth,
And seek in fair Armenia
The village of my birth!
Translated by Alice Stone Blackwell.