Hovhannes Tumanian: Illusion

Translation of Hovhannes Tumanian poem
1918

It started up, our true Chalak,

Raced across the mountain flank,

On and on through the darkened wood

With my bold brother in hot pursuit.

Glade and thicket they wandered through

In the twilight virgin depths.

I call them ever and anew,

Their return I still expect.

But alas, among our hills

Neither of them reappears.

Only their two voices still

Echo in my ears.