Avetik Isahakyan

(1875-1957 / Alexandropol)

The Wind Is Howling Through The Winter Night - Poem by Avetik Isahakyan

THE wind is howling through the winter night,
Like to a pack of angry wolves that cry.
My hapless willows bend before its might;
Their broken branches in the garden lie.

Alas, my heart, thy love since childhood's days
Hath wept; thy dream was understood by none.
Seek not in vain a friend to know thy ways-
The soul is born eternally alone.

Thou from thy hopeless heart that love shalt cast-
That child of earth, false, illegitimate:
Shalt fling it to the night and wintry blast-
Out in the storm- there let it find its fate.

There motherless and orphaned let it weep,
And let the wind its sobbings onward bear
Unto some desert place, or stormy deep-
But not where human soul its voice may hear.

The wind is howling in its agony
All through this snow-bound night, with piercing cry;
Alas, beneath the broken willow tree
My shattered love lies dying- let it die.

Topic(s) of this poem: love

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Poem Submitted: Thursday, March 19, 2015

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