THOU ART SO SWEETBy SAYAT NOVAThou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.
THOU ART SO SWEETBy SAYAT NOVAThou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.
THOU ART SO SWEET
By SAYAT NOVAThou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.
By SAYAT NOVA
Thou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.
Thou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.
Thou art so sweet thou wilt not pain the minstrel singing songs to thee,
But when he loves thee thou dost frown—in vain he tells his wrongs to thee.
Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.
Love’s fire is such, ‘twill not consume—‘twill burn, and burn, and ever burn:
If in that sea of flame I fall to cool me thou wilt never turn.
Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.
Alas, how shall the minstrel bear thy lightning gleams that pierce his heart?
No pact or treaty wilt thou make—a monarch absolute thou art.
If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.
If thou dost meet with mountains high like wax thou meltest them away;
If cities fair lie on thy path, their pride in ruins thou dost lay.
In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.
In sooth, no compact wilt thou make with him who sings these strains to thee:
Sayat Nova no credit hath when he would tell his pains to thee.