Poems of Mugurdich Beshiktashlian. Beshiktashlian Mugurdich

      WHOM dost thou seek, sweet mother?

      Come, tremble not, draw near!

      Gaze on thy son’s blood-streaming wounds

      Without a sigh or tear.

      Let Turkish mothers rend their hair;

      Do thou glad news to Zeitoun bear !

      As, by my cradle, thou didst soothe

      With tender hand and smile

      My childish form to sleep, and sing

      With angel voice the while,

      Lay me to rest, without a care,

      And joyful news to Zeitoun bear !

      Red floods are welling from my wounds,

      But, mother, look around;

      See how the fierce blood-thirsty Turks

      By thousands strew the ground !

      Our swords devoured them, scattered there :

      Then joyful news to Zeitoun bear!

      They smote us like a dragon,

      With sudden roaring deep;

      But Zeitoun shook her rocky head,

      And rolled them down the steep.

      Red was the stain our rocks did wear ;

      Then joyful news to Zeitoun bear !

      Our fathers’ ghosts applauded;

      Our old fire is not dead !

      Our slaughtered kin rejoiced to see

      The blood of vengeance shed.

      Mount Ararat the joy did share ;