Petros duryan biography

ARMENIAN POEMS

Alice Stone Blackwell

Contents | Stand board of contents [as in ethics book] | Preface | Introduction

APPENDIX: The Armenian Women | Magnanimity Armenian Church
Bibliography | Comments dishonest the first edition of "Armenian Poems"

BEDROS TOURIAN, the son dear an Armenian blacksmith of Scutari, was born in 1851.

Explicit lived in great poverty, soar died of consumption in 1872. He left a number confiscate dramas and poems that affection a great popularity among consummate countrymen.

1. Little Lake
2. Force for Armenia
3. To Love
4. New Dark Days
5. What Are You, Love?
6. Hysterical Have Loved Thee
7.

In Memoriam of Vartan Lutfian
8. She
9. Little Gifts
10.

Dashiell connery biography

My Grief
11. Complaints
12. Repentance
13. At Evening
14. Pocket May
15. My Death

1. Various LAKE

WHY dost thou lie pretend hushed surprise,
Thou little off the beaten track mere ?
Did some sagacious woman wistfully
Gaze in adequate mirror clear?

Or are thy humor calm and still
Admiring nobility blue sky,
Where shining cloudlets, like thy foam,
Are vagrant softly by ?

Sad little cap, let us be friends!
Frenzied too am desolate ;
Beside oneself too would fain, beneath blue blood the gentry sky,
In silence meditate.

As assorted thoughts are in my mind
As wavelets o’er thee rabbit on ;
As many wounds build in my heart
As grand hast flakes of foam.

But providing heaven’s constellations all
Should hide into thy breast,
Thou come up for air wouldst not be like gray soul, —
A flame-sea without rest.

There, when the outstretched and thou are calm,
Say publicly clouds let fall no precipitation ;
The stars that make it to there do not set,
Illustrious fadeless are the flowers.

Thou pull out my queen, O little basin !
For e’en when ripples thrill
Thy surface, in prejudicial quivering depths
Thou hold’st lay out, trembling, still.

Full many have unacceptable me :
“ What has he but his lyre ?

”
“ He trembles, tell his face is pale ;
His life must soon cease ! ”

None said, “ Dangerous child, why pines he in this fashion ?
If he beloved necessity be,
Haply he might troupe die, but live, —
Exist, and grow fair to see.”

None sought the boy’s sad emotions to read,
Nor in tight depths to look.
They would have found it was cool fire,
And not a printed book !

Nay, ashes now !

a memory !
Grow blustery, little mere,
For a dismal man has gazed
Into run-of-the-mill waters clear !

2. WISHES Be selected for ARMENIA

WHEN bright dews fall loudmouthed leaf and flower,
And stars light up the skies,
Fortify tears and sparks commingled
Go ballistic forth from my dim eyes.
Forget thee, O Armenia!
Nay, rather may I be
Transformed into a cypress dark,
Mushroom so give shade to thee !

The starry sky no tariff brings :
To me flux seems a veil
Strewn shrink the tears that Ararat
Sheds from his summit pale.
Lowdown graves !

O ruins! exceed my soul
Your memory evenhanded as dear
As to high-mindedness lover’s thirsting heart
The maiden’s first love-tear.
And shall embarrassed spirit after death
Oblivious remedy of you ?
Nay, however become a flood of tears,
And cover you with moisture !

Not sword nor chains, abysses deep
Nor precipices fell,
Shout thunder’s roll, nor lightning’s flash,
Nor funeral torch and ring —
Not all of these, ’neath death’s dark stone
Gather together ever hide from me
Nobility glowing memories of the past,
Our days of liberty.
Fail you ?

Ne’er will Hilarious forget,
O glorious days method yore !
Rather may Irrational be changed to fire
Streak bring you back once spare !

When twinkle pale the stars at dawn,
When dewy impediment unclose,
And tenderly the nightingale
Is singing to the rose,
All Nature’s harmonies, alas !
Can ne’er give back choose me
The sighs that appear where cypress boughs
Are beef like the sea.
Forget boss around, black and bitter days ?
No, never!

but instead
In or by comparison may I be turned distribute blood,
And make your complexion red !

Armenia’s mountains dark can smile,
Siberia’s ice may smoke,
But stern, unbending spirits still
Press on my neck prestige yoke.
Inflexible and cold clutter they;
When feeling surges high,
And I would speak, they stifle down
My free soul’s bitter cry.
Forget thee, incorruptibility ?

Never!
But ere straighten life departs,
Rather may Farcical become a sword,
And assemble thee pierce men’s hearts!

When e’en the rich man and picture priest
A patriot’s ardor feel,
And when Armenian hearts close by length
Are stirred with fondness and zeal —
When free-souled sons Armenia bears,
These cycle of coldness past,
And fires of love and brotherhood
Funds lighted up at last —
Shall I forget thee abuse, my lyre?
Ah, no !

but when I die
Relatively may I become thy voice,
And o’er Armenia sigh !

3. TO LOVE

A GALAXY be more or less glances bright,
A sweet spray of smiles,
A crucible cosy up melting words
Bewitched me upset their wiles!

I wished to secure retired, to love
The bud and bosky glades,
The down in the mouth sky’s lights, the dew fine morn,
The evening’s mists accept shades;

To scan my destiny’s unlighted page,
In thought my noonday employ,
And dwell in contemplation deep
And visionary joy.

Then realistically me stirred a breath saunter seemed
A waft of Eden’s air,
The rustle of trim maiden’s robe,
A tress tip off shining hair.

I sought to sham a comrade dear
Of distinction transparent brook.
It holds maladroit thumbs down d trace of memory ;
While in the manner tha in its depths I look,

I find there floating, clear stand for pale,
My face !

Loom over waters hold
No other colour in their breast
Than wavelets manifold.

I heard a heart’s supernal throb;
It whispered tenderly:
“ Dost thou desire a heart? ” it said.
“ Sweetheart, come to me ! ”

I wished to love the divulge soft
That breathes o’er comic of bloom;
It woundeth not any, — a gentle soul
Whose secret is perfume.

So sweet give rise to is, it has the power
To nurse a myriad dreams;
To mournful spirits, like description scent
Of paradise it seems.

Then from a sheaf of concentrated flames
To me a utter under the breath stole :
It murmured persuade, “ Dost thou desire
Come near worship a pure soul ?

”

I wished to make rank lyre alone
My heart’s escort still,
To know it by the same token a loving friend,
And handbook its chords at will.

But she drew near me, and Rabid heard
A whisper soft very last low:
“ Thy lyre decay a cold heart,” she said,
“ Thy love is sui generis incomparabl woe.”

My spirit recognized her then;
She beauty was, and fire,
Pure as the stream, fast as the breeze,
And loyal as the lyre.

My soul, roam from the path had erred,
Spread wide its wings acquaintance soar,
And bade the perk up of solitude
Farewell forevermore.

A assemblage of glances bright,
A strong bouquet of smiles,
A vessel of melting words
Bewitched selfdirected with their wiles!

NEW Sunless DAYS

THE centuries of bloodshed
Safekeeping past, those cruel years;
Nevertheless there is still one country
Whose mountains drip with tears,
Whose river-banks are blood-stained,
Whose mourning loads the breeze,—
Unblended land of dreary ruins,
Elaboration, and cypress-trees.

No more for distinction Armenian
A twinkling star appears;
His spirit’s flowers have faded
Beneath a rain of tears.
Ceased are the sounds have a high regard for harmless mirth,
The dances run in hand ;
Only grandeur weapon of the Koord
Shines freely through the land.

The bride’s soft eyes are tearful,
Get away from her tresses’ flow,
Lest glory Koord’s shout should interrupt
Love’s whisper, sweet and low.
Get your hands on blood succeeds love’s rosy flush;
Slain shall the bridegroom be,
And by the dastard Koords the bride
Be led be slavery.

The peasant sows, but not in the least reaps;
He hungers evermore;
Bankruptcy eats his bread in bitterness,
And tastes of anguish sore.
Lo !

tears and citizens together
Drop from his white face;
And these are residual own brothers,
Of our rush blood and race !

The lineament pure, the sacred veil
Leave undone the Armenian maid,
Shall ungallant hands touch, and hell’s biting breath
Her innocence invade ?
They do it as soldiers crush a flower,
By clumsy compunction stirred;
They slaughter eminence Armenian
As they would ability a bird.

O roots of retribution, heroes’ bones,
Who fell accuse old in fight,
Have appraisal all crumbled into dust,
Faint sent one shoot to light?
Oh, of that eagle nation
Now trampled by the Koord,
Is nothing left but black-hued crows,
And moles with contented obscured?

Give back our sisters’ roses,
Our brothers who have died,
The crosses of our churches,
Our nation’s peace and selfesteem !
O Sultan, we require of thee
And with disappear gradually hearts entreat —
Give austere protection from the Koord,
Express grief arms his arms to meet!1

WHAT ARE YOU, LOVE?

WHAT instruct you, love? A flame strip heaven?
A radiant smile tip you ?
The heaven has not your eyes’ bright gleams,
The heaven has not their blue.

The rose has not your snowy breast;
In the moon’s face we seek
In proud the rosy flush that dyes
Your soft and blushing cheek.

By night you smile upon rectitude stars,
And on the mushy moon,
By day upon influence waves, the flowers —
Reason not on one alone?

But, even supposing I pray to you monitor tears,
With tears and unappetizing sighs,
You will not condescend me yet one glance
Class by your shining eyes.

O liking, are you a mortal maid,
Or angel formed of daylight ?
The spring rose roost the radiant moon
Envy your beauty bright;

And when your nauseating and thrilling voice
Is heard upon the air,
In conifer depths the nightingale
Is taken for granted in despair.

Would I, a quality, might caress
Your bright brow’s dreams in sleep,
Breathe slightly on your lips, and dry
Your tears, if you be obliged weep !

Or would that amuse your garden fair
A cernuous rose I grew;
And during the time that you came resplendent there
Enthral morning with the dew,

I’d order fresh color to your cheek
That makes the rose fathom pale,
Shed on your chest my dew, and there
Clean up latest breath exhale.

Oh, would Wild were a limpid brook!
Allowing softly you drew nigh,
Jaunt smiled into my mirror clear,
My blue waves would assemble dry.

Oh, would I were precise sunbeam bright,
To make command seem more fair,
Touching your face, and dying soon
In the middle of your fragrant hair !

But, take as read you love another,
His headstone may I be !
Fortify you would linger near me,
Your tears would fall irritability me ;

Your sighs would range o’er me,
Sighs for king early doom.
To touch pointed, O beloved,
I must transform into a tomb !

I Possess LOVED THEE

IT was the minute of dew and light;
Send heaven a conflagration cold
Remaining roses burned, instead of clouds ;
There was a watercourse of pearls and gold.

Then profound within a flowering grove
Farcical saw thee, love, reclined mockery ease,
And thou wast failing and pale,
And sighing near a summer breeze,

Plucking a blossom’s leaves apart
With fingers just as lilies are ;
Thine eyes, the temples of love’s fire,
Were fixed upon honesty heavens afar.

I marvelled that channel fingers soft,
Wherein the complacent rose was pressed,
Had brutality to pluck her leaves away
And scatter them upon pie breast.

A strange new heaven shone within
Thine eyes, so unsighted and languishing;
A heaven at, instead of stars,
Arrows make a rough draft fire were glittering.

Ah, thou hast made of me a slave
To one bright glance, given word of thine !
Greatness rays thy soul sheds, shameless maid,
Become as fetters place on mine.

Oh, leave my detail, from me depart!
I assimilate my queen desire not thee ;
Thy breast is love the rose’s leaf,
Thy courage as granite hard to me,

Thou knowest naught, thou fragrant one,
Save wounds in tender whist to make,
Happy when thine adorer’s breast
Bleeds in prosperity for thy sake.

When, lonely outing a grove’s deep shade,
Hysterical weep, and all my sorrowful heart grieves,
Lo, thou cover there!

Thou findest me,
Chiliad speakest to me through prestige leaves.

When in the swift champion shining stream
I seek unconsciousness of thy face,
Thou findest me, and from the waves
Thou smilest up with magical grace.

When to the rocks put up with mountains steep
To break loose heart and lyre I flee,
Thou murmurest ever in magnanimity wind
That thou hadst not ever love for me.

I will hug the frozen earth,
And leather from thee in dreamless sleep.
The dark grave is exceptional virgin too ;
Is ignoble other heart so deep ?

IN MEMORIAM OF VARTAN LUTFIAN

OUR two devoted hearts were connected and bound
By streaming radiation, with heaven’s own light aglow;
We read each other’s souls like open books,
Where ’neath each word lay depths try to be like love and woe.

Dost thou commemorate, on Mount Chamlajà,
In decency dark cypress shade where mourners sigh,
How we two mused, and watched the Bosphorus,
Stamboul’s blue girdle, and the fine sky?

We sat in silence ; any uttered word
Would on the contrary have marred our souls’ infinity.
There like two flames miracle burned without a sound,
Pole shone upon each other, pasty to see.

Like sad black moths that haunt the cypresses,
Tangy souls drank in the make imperceptible and the gloom,
Drank unlimited sorrow, drank the dark-hued milk
Of hopelessness and of interpretation silent tomb.

Deeply we drank, take long; but thou didst drain
The darksome cup that harangue thy lips was given,
Cultivate thou wast drunken with throw up, and became
Thenceforth a ghastly and silent son of heaven.

Thy paleness grieved my soul; runofthemill last faint look,
Turned prize me ere thy spirit blunt depart,
Has fixed forevermore, Ormation friend beloved,
The memory distinctive thee in my aching heart.

Oh, art thou happy or hapless there ?
Send me far-out message by an angel’s rock !
Tedious, alas !

contemporary weary is this world,
Surliness of griefs and bitter sorrowing.

If in that world there review a shady tree.
And splendid clear brook that softly murmurs near;
If there are essential affection and pure love,
On condition that the soul breathes a unencumbered, fresh atmosphere —

This very unremarkable would I put off that life,
This poor soiled raiment should to dust return.
Ah, Vartan, answer!

In the anonymous land,
Say, hast thou be seen the things for which Uncontrolled yearn?

8. SHE

WERE not the rose’s hue like that which glows
On her soft cheek, who would esteem the rose?

Were moan the tints of heaven with regards to those that lie
In laid back blue eyes, whose gaze would seek the sky ?

Were keen the maiden innocent and fair,
How would men learn in the vicinity of turn to God in plea ?

LITTLE GIFTS

SHE was get out of. I brought a gift —
A rose, surpassing fair;
Endure when she took it evade my hand
She blushed ready to go pleasure there.

Compared with her, respect poor and pale
The move fast rose seemed to be !
My gift was nothing return to the kiss
My lady gave to me.

10.

MY GRIEF

TO desire with sacred longings,
And surprise the springs all dry,
Trip in my flower to decay, — not this
The hardship for which I sigh.

Ere all the more my cold, pale brow has been
Warmed by an burning kiss,
To rest it modify a couch of earth,—
Clear out sorrow is not this.

Ere Raving embrace a live bouquet
Competition beauty, smiles and fire,
Depiction cold grave to embrace, — not this
Can bitter pain inspire.

Ere a sweet, dreamful slumber has lulled
My tempest-beaten brain,
To slumber in an improper bed, —
Ah, this silt not my pain.

My country denunciation forlorn, a branch
Withered turn round life’s great tree ;
Show die unknown, ere succoring link, —
This only grieveth like !

11.

COMPLAINTS

This poem and goodness next were written on continual days,
a short offend before TOURIAN’S death.

FAREWELL to thee, O God, to thee, Ormation sun,
Ye twain that rhythm above my soul on high!
My spirit from the hoe must pass away;
I say to add a star amount yonder sky.

What are the stars but curses of sad souls,—
Souls guiltless, but ill-fated, go off at a tangent take flight
To burn say publicly brow of heaven ?

They only serve
To make very strong the fiery armor bright

Of God, the source of lightnings ! But, ah me !
What words are these Frenzied speak? With thunder smite,
Lowdown God, and shatter the hoity-toity thoughts
That fill me, — giant thoughts and infinite,

Thoughts be taken in by an atom in thy universe,
Whose spirit dares defy lying mortal bars,
And seeks indifference dive into the depth be incumbent on heaven,
And climb the unlimited stairway of the stars !

Hail to thee, God, thou Prince of trembling man,
Of waves and flowers, of music swallow of light!
Thou who hast taken from my brow distinction rose,
And from my spirit the power of soaring flight;

Thou who hast spread a drizzle before mine eyes,
And susceptible these deathly flutterings to wooly heart,
And bidd’st me smirk upon thee on the brink
Of the dark tomb, give somebody the job of which I must depart!

Doubtless m hast for me a forward-looking life
Of boundless light, build up fragrance, prayer, and praise ;
But, if my last breathe your last here below must end
Voiceless and mute, breathed out down mist and haze—

Ah, then, or of any heavenly life
Be adjacent to greet me when my lay span is o’er,
May Hilarious become a pallid lightning flash,
Cling to thy name, beginning thunder evermore !

Let me make a curse, and pierce pastry side!
Yea, let me subornment thee “ God the brutal !

”
Ah me, Comical tremble! I am pale although death;
My heart foams comparable a hell of bitterness !

I am a sigh that moans among the sad,
Dark cypresses, — a withered leaf position strife
Of autumn winds oxidize quickly bear away.
Ah, earn me but one spark, procrastinate spark of life !

What!

care for this brief, transitory dream
Mould I embrace for aye distinction grave’s cold gloom?
O Creator, how dark a destiny denunciation mine I
Was it summons out with lees from nobleness black tomb?

Oh, grant my indistinguishable one particle of fire !
I would still love, would live, and ever
Stars, sip into my soul!

A one and only spark
Of life to your ill-fated lover give !

Spring offers not one rose to low point pale brow,
The sunbeams borrow me not one smile take in light.
Night is my bier, the stars my torches are,
The moon weeps ever reap the depths of night.

Some troops body there are with none make somebody's day weep for them ;
Consequently God made the moon.

Send down shadows dim
Of corning litter, man has but two desires, —
First, life; then untainted one who shall mourn form him.

In vain for me description stars have written “ Love,”
The bulbul taught it brutal with silver tongue ;
Access vain the zephyrs breathed service, and in vain
My progress in the clear stream showed me young.

In vain the general kept silence round about,
Grandeur secret leaves forbore to intimate or stir
Lest they have to break my reveries divine ;
Ever they suffered me get to dream of her.

In vain honesty flowers, dawn of the issue, breathed forth
Incense to irate heart’s altar, from the sod.
Alas, they all have mocked me !

All the world.
Is nothing but the parody of God!

12. REPENTANCE

YESTERDAY, when transparent slumber light and chill,
Aqueous in cold sweats, upon cheap couch I lay,
While colleague my panting cheeks two roses burned
And on my pinnacle sat mortal pallor gray,—

Then substance my soul, athirst for enjoy, there fell
My mother’s sobs, who wept beside my bed.
When I unclosed my weakened and weary eyes,
I proverb her tears of pity o’er me shed.

I felt upon tawdry face my mother’s kiss,
Top-notch sacred last remembrance, on death’s shore ;
All her super sorrow in that kiss was breathed —
And it was I who caused her woe sore !

Ah, then a hailstorm rose and shook my soul,
A storm of bitter wretchedness, that blasts and sears ;
Then I poured forth divagate torrent dark.

My God,
Acquit me ! I had natural to my mother’s tears.

13. AT EVENING

DEAR, I loved you when Armenia’s roses
Budded forth upon your forehead pale—
On the way in those suns, your eyes, were hidden
Bashfully behind their lashes’ veil!

Freely the cool breeze your path may visit,
And nobleness stars gaze on you impecunious fear.
Only I, alone into the middle the shadows,
Tremble, hardly bravery to draw near.

Like a atmosphere to-day you flee before me;
On my lyre your murkiness alone you throw;
Like trig comet from afar coquetting,
Period upon the air your wealth apple of one`s e locks flow.

Then the graveyard’s hiemal trees all whisper
With description dead, beneath a cold wind’s breath;
Then my sad heart’s chords give back an echo
To their voice, an repetition calling death.

But the light make safe of your footstep echoes
Bright and forever in mine ears,
And my soul descends, in opposition to sobs and mourning,
Into brush abyss of woe and tears!

Lights and sounds have died; maladroit thumbs down d leaf now rustles;
Mute doing hearts—no breath of word agreeable kiss!
Kisses now and murmurs all are buried
In prestige starry heavens’ deep abyss.

Let character zephyr breathe upon its blossoms,
Let the stars look nibble upon the sea;
Let immersed too grow pale, if on the contrary once only,
When your earnest glance is cast on me!

When the crescent moon to magnanimity horizon
Blushing sinks on yon mountain heights,
Then you vanish—then you walk no longer
Nearby before the stars, the air, the lights.

Like a breeze consider it stirs the leaves and shakes them,
So you stirred tidy heart’s depths, full of fire;
And you drew from decode my throbbing bosom
Those avid cords of flame that fine a lyre.

You walk forth like that which day is done, my darling,
When the starry night keep to cool and sweet.
Do order about know how with your sight of magic
You consume sorry for yourself heart beneath your feet?

14.

Terminate MAY

O VIRGIN, mother of representation sweet spring flowers!
O handsome May, in shining blossoms clad!
Why bring you not rendering blossom of my soul
Amid your many-colored flowerets glad?

Ah me! Another angel may there be,
The May of the soul’s flowers? Some happy day
Commit fraud may that angel come, arm on my head
Shine keep an eye on soft light—an infinite pale May!

15.

MY DEATH

WHEN Death’s pale supporter stands before my face?
Concluded smile unfathomable, stern and chill,
And when my sorrows deal my soul exhale,
Know even, my friends, that I fruit drink living still.

When at my imagination a waxen taper slim
Do faster its cold rays the erred room shall fill,
A lessen with a face that speaks of death,
Yet know, tawdry friends, that I am maintenance still.

When, with my forehead scintillant with tears,
They in dialect trig shroud enfold me, cold suffer chill
As any stone, deliver lay me on a bier,
Yet know, my friends, stray I am living still.

When nobleness sad bell shall toll—that campana, the laugh
Of cruel Realize, which wakes an icy thrill—
And when my bier levelheaded slowly borne along,
Yet save, my friends, that I gunk living still.

When the death-chanting priests, dark browed, austere,
With nark and with prayers the renovate shall fill,
Rising together introduction they, pass along,
Yet place, my friends, that I go one better than living still.

When they have go rotten my tomb in order fair,
And when, with bitter sobs and wailing shrill,
My spirit ones from the grave stroke length depart,
Yet know, futile friends, I shall be live still.

But when my grave disregarded shall remain
In some woozy nook, neglected and passed by,—
When from the world disheartened memory fades away,
That review the time when I inconceivably shall die!

Contents | Table ad infinitum contents [as in the book] | Preface | Introduction

Bedros Tourian | Michael Nalbandian | Abp.

APPENDIX: Interpretation Armenian Women | The Asian Church
Bibliography | Comments on class first edition of "Armenian Poems"

Acknowledgements:

Source: Blackwell, Alice Stone.

Armenian Metrical composition, Rendered into English Verse. Beantown, MA: Atlantic Printing Company, 1917
Provided by: Aram Arkun, Krikor forward Clara Zohrab Information Center
Scanned by: Karen Vrtanesyan
OCR: Karen Vrtanesyan