“THY VOICE IS SWEET”
Reading edition
By SAYAT NOVA
Thy voice is soft, thy speech all sweetness flows;
May he protect who hath thy heart, my love!
Thy waist is the gazelle’s, thy hue the rose,
Brocade from Franguistan thou art, my love!
If I compare thee to brocade, ‘twill fray;
If to a plane-tree, ‘twill be felled one day;
All girls are likened to gazelles thou’lt say—
How then shall I describe thee truly, love?
The violet is wild, and low of birth;
Rubies are stones, for all their priceless worth:
The moon itself is made of rocks and earth—
All flame, thou shinest like the sun, my love.
Thy door I seek as pilgrims seek a shrine:
Thine eyes are roses, new-blown eglantine;
Thy tongue a pen, thy hands like paper fine,
A flower fresh from the sea thou art, my love!
Within my soul thy hand has placed love’s seed;
Thy wiles and coyness make my heart to bleed:
Thy Sayat Nova thou hast slain indeed,
Thine evil fate he bears for thee, my love.
Christ’s Letter to Abgarus
“And after My ascension I will send thee one of My disciples, that he may heal thee from thy disease, and give Life unto thee and to them that are with thee.”
Moses of Khorene.