Tell him that, like a beauteous flower
Smit by a cruel doom,
Uprooted from my native soil,
I wither ere my bloom.
Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,
Across the quickening earth,
And seek in fair Armenia
The village of my birth!
Tell him that, like a beauteous flower
Smit by a cruel doom,
Uprooted from my native soil,
I wither ere my bloom.
Fly on swift wing, dear swallow,
Across the quickening earth,
And seek in fair Armenia
The village of my birth!