Derenik

[Arpa]

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DERENIK

By D. Varouzhan (1884-1915)

(Note: All these works in re to the Armenian suffering, as well as those by Siamanto and others were written before "the big one", i.e. before 1915)

 

The door opens wide, Derenik with awe,

Like a wounded deer hit by an arrow,

Falls in his mother's arms, weeping.

"what happened, my son... tell me quick.. don't cry,

Did the snake bite you, or the horse you kick"?

"My head tore open, our next door Ali!"

 

And he bares open, under those black curls

That gashing wound with blood streaking down

That little Armenian head, hit with Turkish vengeance.

Deep gorges open in brave mother's soul

Full of shame... is it right to caress

On her heart- head of a defeated coward?

 

In a moment, deaf to her mercy, she ponders

From chest to the head of that little wretch,

And she roars,- "Out!... until you triumph

His blood you cleanse with your own

Don't come today. You betrayed my care,

Did I nourish you with bread made of oats?... Out!!!"

 

The boy turned scarlet with shame protests,

"But mommy, Ali is a son of Turk,

There's fire in his eyes and pala on his back."

"And you're Armenian, and let at your waist be

My scissors, my spinner, whatever you want...Out!!!"

 

Derenik with shame, looking to the ground

Leaves in deep silence... There under a tree

I see him by light of the moon,

A big stone in hand, nervous and pale

(While down his cheek blood dripping down)

At the doorstep of foe, he waits and waits long...