Armenian Poems/Lullaby

by Raphael Patkanian

AWAKE, my darling! Open those bright eyes, dark and deep,
 And scatter from thine eyelids the heavy shades of sleep.
Sweet tales the angels long enough in dreams have told to thee;
Now I will tell thee of the things thou in the world shalt see.

Chorus.
Awake, and ope thy beauteous eyes, my child, my little one!
Thy mother sees therein her life, her glory, and her sun.

Thou shalt grow up, grow tall and strong, as rises in the air
A stately plane-tree; how I love thy stature tall and fair!
The heroes of Mount Ararat, their ghosts shall strengthen thee
With power and might, that thou as brave as Vartan's self mayst be.

A golden girdle for thy waist my fingers deft have made,
And from it I have hung a sword, — my own hands ground the blade.

Within our courtyard stands a steed that, champing. waits for thee.
Awake, and take thy sword! How long wilt thou a slumberer be?
Thy nation is in misery; in fetters, lo! they weep;
Thy brethren are in slavery, my brave one; wilt thou sleep?

No, soon my son will waken, will mount his champing steed,
Will wipe away Armenia's tears, and stanch the hearts that bleed;
Will bid his nation’s mourning cease, and those that weep shall smile.
Ah, my Armenian brethren, wait but a little while!

Lo, my Aghassi has awaked! He girt himself with speed.
And from his sword-belt hung the sword, and mounted on his steed.