What’s left of the sunlit days of holidays?
Of the golden sun of a summer now complete?
A cloudy sky gloomy as my dejected gaze,
And a pair of worn sandals from your feet.
What’s left of an ever-green seeming days?
Grand ventures now a mere crumbling mess,
Broad avenues now narrowed to mere byways
And a horizon as barren as a wilderness
What’s left of those budding loves and trysts?
A meager memory that dissipates already,
Aging desires, melancholy as descending mists…
And my Anna, my own lyric melody.
……………………….. Hagop Jelalian
Translated by Tatul Sonentz