Armenian Poems/New Spring

by Hovhannes Hovhannisyan

WHERE art thou coming, Springtime sweet?
 Thou com’st in vain, O Spring!
No one is left to wait for thee,
 No one thy praise to sing.

Deep darkness has enwrapped the world;
 To mount and valley cling
Red stains of blood; this year brought woe.
 Where art thou coming, Spring?

The nightingale may sing to thee;
 Who else, where all are slain,
Is left to smile? What heart can stir?
 O Spring, thou com’st in vain!

The nightingale has come, but found
 No rose with silken leaf.
Here is the flower-bed, but no flower.
 Who else is free from grief?

Although thou hast brought back the birds,
 How shall they find their nests?
No spot in all our fatherland
 Unspoiled, unruined rests.

The minstrel’s mouth is closed to-day;
 No flutes or viols ring;
His heart is burning without fire.
 Where art thou coming, Spring?

No one is left to praise thee now
 On mountain or on plain;
No one is left to wait for thee;
 O Spring, thou com’st in vain!