From early days I turned my gaze towards the vast unknown.
In heart and mind I soar above the abyss, intent and lone.
Yet every time, O country of mine, my heart is torn again
When I reflect upon your past and present full of pain,
Upon the silent crowds of exiles-your devoted sons,
Upon the plight of ruined villages and burned and looted towns.
O Fatherland beloved mine,
In age-old sorrow you repine!
I see the ruthless enemy putting you to tortures,
I see your face so beautiful, your flowering, fields and orchards
Contorted with the agony of villages and towns;
I hear the shouts of those whose name I calmly can't pronounce,
Who turned our land into a vale of sorrow without bounds.
Till now in plaintive songs, my land, that sorrow still resounds.
O hillbound Fatherland of mine,
In age-old anguish you repine!
Your wounds are countless, O my land, yet still alive are you.
The cherished words we have waited for are already breaking through
Your lips compressed with sorrow; we believe that on the way
Destined to you by God and Fate-those words you'll find and say.
We wait with fervour for your call-anon, Anon we hear it;
You will become a promised land, free both, in flesh and spirit,
O lofty, sacred Fatherland,
O ever-cherished Fatherland!
We hope, we know the dawn will rise and put an end to dark,
And joy will pour like sunshine into every stricken heart.
The summits of your mountains from the clouds on us will gaze,
And for the first time Ararat will smile at dawn's first rays,
And a poet with lips undefiled by rage and condemnation,
Will glorify in glowing words your great rejuvenation.
O my reviving Fatherland,
Shine with new light, my Fatherland!
