A masterpiece poem by Hovhannes Tumanyan (1869-1923)

In his village on a hill-top,
A villager had set up shop.
One morning from the hinterland,
Arrives a shepherd, crook in hand,
His faithful dog close by his side,
“Hello!” says he, stepping inside.
“Would you sell me
Some pure honey?”
“Sure, friend! Why not? It’s my pleasure.
Hand me your mug, here’s my measure.
Any prefrence? The best you say?
That’s fine! We’ll pour it right away
With such sweetness, with such good will,
Honey’s measured and poured to fill
The shepherd’s mug. But as they pour,
One drop of honey hits the floor.
Buzzing around, a little fly
Rests on the drop, its taste to try,
Purring its way comes cautiously
And sturdily and curiously,
The shopkeeper’s old pussy cat
Attacks the fly, kills with one splat!
Upon the cat’s unwonted dart,
The shepherd’s dog, jumps with a start,
Barks: “Wuff and, lo,
Raising it’s paw,
Strikes just one blow,
A strong one though.
And kills the cat
Leaving it flat!
“It’s dead! My cat, its life’s over!
Yon brute, you beast, you son of a…”
The shopkeeper utters his cry,
Raising some heavy object high.
He hits it hard on the dog’s head.
Which falls beside the cut, stiff, dead.
“Oh, dear, my dog! My pal! My Lion!
Curses on you, ruthless villain!
You shatterer, you batterer…”
Et cetera. et cetera…
“What made you strike a stroke so vile?
You’ll pay for this, you… crocodile!”
Thus cries the shepherd in a fit,
And lifts his crook, and swiftly hits
The shopkeeper, with one strong whack,
And leaves him flat upon his back,
“They’ve murdered him alert, alarm!”
From shop to street, from house to farm.
Voices arise angry and grim,
“Alert, alarm, they’ve murdered him!”
Shouting, prying
Cursing, crying
Come the fathers,
Mothers, brothers,
Sisters, children
Widows, Maiden,
Come friends, come foes,
Uncles, in-laws,
Step-dad, step-son,
How can you name them one by one!
They come and come from everywhere,
In short, the whole village stands there!
“You heinous bear, you ogre, you!
What an idiotic tiling to do!
You came to shop or to provoke
A fight, by killing honest folk?”
On threat is made, ten blows are thrust,
Until the shepherd bites the dust
And drops down dead beside his dog!
“Now send the corpse back to his stock!”
But bad news spreads. And in no time
The shepherd’s town learns of the crime.
“Murder! Bloodshed!
Are you all dead?
They’ve killed our brother, quick, arise!”
Like a bee-hive struck with surprise,
Frenzied and fuzzy,
Angry and rnuzzy,
The whole, entire population moves in frantic agitation,
Armed with what they can lay hands on,
One grabs a stick, one a truncheon,
One picks a sword, one takes a log,
One a shovel, a spade, a rod,
One still an axe, a knife, a gun,
Some of them ride, some walk, some run,
Some bare of head, others barefoot,
All take the neighbour village route!
Work, persist, relentlessly create – survival is the bridge.
Destroy old worlds, build new ones – building is the bridge.
Bear new lives, die to resurrect – dying is the bridge.
Be passionate, be wise and laugh – laughter is the bridge!

“You dev’lish, fiendish, nurd’rous lot!
Have you no heart? No fear of God?
One comes to shop, his throat is cut?
What sort of wild custom is that?
We spit upon people like you!
Spit on your name, your honor too!
We’ll strike and shoot Plunder and loot.
Hey! Ho! Let’s go!
We’ll squash the foe!”
And so the crowds soon come to blow,
They strike and shoot and mutilate,
And plunder, burn and devastate!
The more the farms are put to flame
The deadlier becomes the game.
They crush each other,
Erase the other,
Until they wipe out
Themselves for ever.
Would you have thought, near as they were,
These villages, close as they were
To almost form one single town,
Would have a king each of its own?
When the sovereign of one kingdom
Hears of his peoples’ martyrdom,
He summons court, rules a decree
To all subjects of his country.
“Hark ye, my loyal noblemen.
My soldiers, workers, countrymen.
All men of trade.
Of shade and grade,
Behold how vile and treacherous
Our neighbours evil, envious,
Have marched upon us in foray.
While we in guileless slumber lay.
Slaughtered without the slightest ruth,
Our precious country’s precious youth!
So, massacred and piteous,
Our very children call on us.
To take up arms raise the army,
We shall, though most unwillingly:
With cannon ball and sword of flame,
In God Almighty’s holy name,
Vengeance shall raise its worthy hand,
And crush for e’er that hostile land!”
The rival king orders likewise
His subjects, in protest to rise:
“Before our God omnipotent,
We charge our neighbour government
Of malice and barbarity,
Disrupting peace and harmony
Of conduct such that war ignites
And violates the human rights!
Breaching ties of fraternal love!
In view of crimes mentioned above,
In name of probity and trust,
In name of blood spilt most unjust,
In name of peace and liberty,
In name of God and his Glory,
We raise our voices sharp and shrill,
And our sharp sabers higher still,
And thus begins the dreadful war.
Everywhere thunder and uproar,
Cities and lands are put to fire,
Blood, fearful screams, laments most dire!
Ruin, misery and despair,
The grim smell of death everywhere.
Summer, winter,
Year after year,
Ploughmen are killed,
Fields left untilled,
And as all peaceful efforts fail,
Famine and drought of course prevail,
Famine and drought mean death, mean doom
The flowering land becomes a tomb. And the survivors to this day,
Ask in amazement and dismay,
“What was the reason, what gave birth,
To this unholy hell on earth?