Nostalgia Poem by Anahit Arustamyan

NOSTALGIA
Play your guitar and let the mild breeze sail on your head.
My musical instrument called duduk is far from your land.
Why are we still parted on the world's huge map?
Do tell your Liverpool about my duduk, my dear gentleman.
Our wedding was our love's bell in my ancient land.
Why are we still parted on the world's huge map?
Ages are loaded boats sailing to an unknown place.
These wine stains probably know the sagas of sweet grapes.
Play your guitar and its strings will kiss your fingers and hand.
My duduk knows my saga and it can never forget.