Avetik Issahakian
Avetik IsahakianAvetik Issahakian was born in October of 1875 in a little village called 'Khazarabad,' in Armenia. He received his education at Eichmiadzin's Spiritual Academy, followed by studies at Leipzig and Zurich Universities in Europe, which included courses in history and literature.

Issahakian spent time in Paris, France and in 1934 returned to Armenia, where he played an active role in creating the Armenian Academy of Sciences. He was also nominated to the Chairmanship of the Armenian Writers.

Mr. Issahakian wrote numerous lyrics that dealt with themes of fatherland and of motherly love. Some of his works were, "Yerker oo Verker" (Songs and Wounds), "Abu Lalla Mahari," "Im Hogin" (My Soul), "Mayrigis" (To My Mother), "Gisher" (Night), "Goozes Linem" (You Want Me To Be), "Hayrenikits Heroo" (Away From My Fatherland), "Dariner Hedo" (Years Later).

Dozens of his poems were set to music. His works in Armenian were translated and published in English, Russian and many other languages.

Issahakian died in 1957 and was buried in Yerevan's Artist's Pavilion.


The Alienated Child

With a troubled heart, poor and very miserable,
And with my walking stick in hand and very confused,
I returned to my homeland once again
After being alienated for many years.

Because of life’s heavy burden I had my back bent,
And my mind lost and very confused.
I returned to my homeland once again
After crossing seven mountains and seven seas.

At the village entrance, I saw my childhood friend,
My very close friend and with a longing heart
I ran towards him and said, "Hello friend, my dear friend,
Don’t you remember me?"

But I had changed so much! He couldn’t recognize me.
With my walking stick in hand I walked into the village.
I passed by my lover’s house and saw my love with a rose in her hand
Standing alone next to the door. I said,
"Hey sister, for the sake of your beautiful face
Am I worthy of your greetings?"
She also did not recognize me. I was very poor and all very dusty.

With a troubled heart I arrived at our house,
Where I saw my poor elderly mother. I said,
"Mommy, I am a passer by, will you give me shelter for tonight?"
My precious mother threw herself on to me.
She kept hugging me and all the way crying,
"O, my dear one, my dear strange son, is that really YOU?"
 
Armenian Poetry