I Love My Sweet Armenia's...
 
I love my sweet Armenia's word which is filled with the taste of sun,
I love our old lyre's melody from its mournful and weeping strings,
The vivacious fragrance of the blood-like flowers and the roses,
I love as well the graceful and agile dance of Nayirian girls.

I love as well our gloomy sky, our pure waters, luminous lake,
The summer's sun and the winter's sublime wind with a dragon's voice,
Also the black, unwelcoming walls of the huts lost in the dark,
And I love the thousand-year stone of the ancient cities as well.
 
No matter where I am yet I shall not forget our mournful songs,
Shall not forget our steel-lettered books which now have become prayers,
No matter how sharply they pierce my heart our wounds so soaked with blood,
Even then I love my orphaned and my bloodied, dear Armenia.
 
For my longing heart there is not, not even one another tale,
There's no brighter forehead than that of Kouchag and Naregatsi,
Pass the whole world, there's no summit as white as that of Ararat,
Like glory road, unreachable, I love as well my Mount Massis.
 
Translated by Shant Norashkharian
 
***
 
Of My Motherland Armenia
 
Of my motherland Armenia - its sun-soaked word I adore,
Of our old, mourning saz - the deep, moving string I adore,
The radiant scent of blood-red roses and sun-dipped flowers I adore,
And the humble, graceful dance of women of Nairi I adore.
 
I love our sky - deep blue and high, the waters - clear and the lucent lake,
The sun in summer, and the winter's ferocious frost outbreak,
The black, dreary walls of the old huts - drowned in the dark,
And the thousand-year-old, tattered stones of the ancient cities I adore.
 
Never will I ever forget the mournful tunes of our songs,
Will not forget the iron-script books that have become prayers long,
However deep my heart is hurt by our blood-drained wounds of fate,
Still, time and again - the orphaned, weak, but my Armenia I adore.
 
For my homesick, yearning soul there is no better tale told,
Than Narekatsi and Kuchak, there are no brighter shining thoughts.
Cross-pass the world, yet Ararat is the greatest peak to be sought,
As an everlasting walk to fame, my Mount Masis I adore.
 
Translated by Armine Grigoryan