I was in Abasha, I walked the whole world to the edge, gentle,
There is no one like you (nowhere), you gleam of paradise, tender,
After all, canvas on you are simple — brocade fabric, delicate,
No wonder they all praise you, when meeting you, gentle.
You — marvelous pearl. Blessed is the one to whom fate is to buy you.
Wont regret the one who will find, but grief — to lose you.
Alas, in the blissful light is the one, whose fate was to give birth to you;
If lived she, she would have had (another one), like you, second, gentle.
Youre precious all through, your beauty is shining
Wave of your thick hair is twined with an amber thread.
Eyes two goblets/ cups of gold, couple of faceted bowls,
Eyelashes as an order/built of sharp arrows head towards, piercing, gentle.
Your face — would have said the Persian,- the second sun and the moon.
Wrapped in a shawl is your thin waist, youre entangled in gold.
Artist dropped the feather/ pen, the hand is dropped/ fought by the vision
Gotten up, you (are) as Rahsh, but sowing — eclipse shine of parrot, gentle.
But Sayat-Nova is not like that, to erect/ build a house on sand.
What do you want from me — how to deduct (it) in your heart?
Youre all — fire, your coat — fire, how to fight with such fire?
On your Indian fabric laid another one, tender.