[armenian] Is A Rich Language,

Who Tracks The Steps Of Glory To The Grave?

I Feel My Immortality Over Sweep All Pains, All Tears, All Time, All Fears, - And Peal, Like The Eternal Thunders Of The Deep, Into My Ears, This Truth, - Thou Livest Forever!

I Have Not Loved The World, Nor The World Me; I Have Not Flattered Its Rank Breath, Nor Bowed To Its Idolatries A Patient Knee, Nor Coined My Cheek To Smiles,-nor Cried Aloud In Worship Of An Echo.

Accursed Be The City Where The Laws Would Stifle Nature's!

Then Stirs The Feeling Infinite, So Felt In Solitude, Where We Are Least Alone.