Raphael Patkanian Poems

UNDERNEATH the south wind’s breathing,
From the fields the snow has fled;
All the children are rejoicing —
Christ is risen from the dead !
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HAVE you seen the bright moon rising
In the heavens? Have you seen
Ruddy apricots that shimmer
Through the garden’s foliage green?
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WHY didst thou cease, O nightingale, thy sweet, melodious song,
That to my sad and burning eyes bade floods of teardrops throng?
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'WHAT shall we do ? ' Now, shame on those who that weak plaint renew !
He that despairs, in deepest shame his cowardice shall rue.
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'Have you forgotten, Europe, how the dart
Of the fierce Persian pointed at your heart,
Until, on that dread field of Avarair,
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NIGHTINGALE, oh, leave our garden,
Where soft dews the blossoms steep ;
With thy litanies melodious
Come and sing my son to sleep!
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Mother

SWEET slumber now creeps o’er thee slow,
Sweet breezes rock thee to and fro:
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WHEN the mother, with sore travail,
To the world a man-child gives,
Let a sharp sword from his father
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MOON, fair moon, how long wilt thou appear
So pale, so mournful, in the heavens’ height ?
Have the dark storm-clouds filled thee with alarm,
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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,—
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