The Sure Hope Poem by Raphael Patkanian

LET the wind blow cold, let it beat my face,
Let the clouds above heavy snow-flakes fling,
Let the north wind blow, raging all it will,—
Yet I live in hope soon or late comes spring.
Let the heavy clouds make the clear sky dark,
Let the dense fogs cover the earth from sight,
Let the elements be together mixed,
Yet I know the sun will again be bright.
Let harsh trials come, persecutions rage,
And the light grow dim of the sun on high;
To Armenian hearts, pain is naught to dread—
But the poor man’s hope must not fade and die!