Archie Minasian: The Road

We sit, and gazing on the hills
My thoughts to wild.
I see the road that led me to her house in snow.
And Autumn just begun,
I cannot bear the long months in my mind,
or push the drift.


They bring me raisins, figs, and dates, 
And press me to the wine.
They see my father in my face
and ask of home.
I give strange answers.

Hairenik, 1934-1939. An anthology of short stories and poems by young Armenian writers in the United States, and translations of selected short stories from the original Armenian, collected from issues of the Hairenik weekly, 1934-1938 inclusive. With an introduction by  William Saroyan.