Song Of The Van Mother Poem by Raphael Patkanian

I WILL not rock you, little boy, that sleep your soul may bind;
Your brothers have arisen; you only stay behind.
Awake from sleep, my darling! From the West hath shone the sun.
Awake ! The happy fortune of Armenia has begun.
Lo, it is fallen, dashed to bits, the Sultan’s golden throne !
From under it the liberty of many lands hath shone.
Now he who speedily shall rise shall find his liberty :
Will my fair son alone remain fast bound in slavery?
We have implored the Sultan with mourning and with cries;
We washed his hands, we washed his feet, with salt tears from our eyes.
He would not heed our piteous prayers, our sad, beseeching words;
Now let us see if he will heed the clashing of our swords!
My darling, let me from thine arms unbind the swaddling band,
And lay a sword of steel within that weak and tender hand!
Go to the bloody battlefield, O slave, and come back freed!
O Lord, our God, wilt thou one day unto our prayer give heed?