O'ER the mountains high he went, Neither quail nor partridge stirred. Like a flower's fragrance sweet When my lover rode away
81:1 The patron saint of lovers.FOLK SONG
Love, love!
In the meadows above
I seek for my love.
With a weary sigh he went.
Love, love!
To fight thou art gone
While I stay here alone.
Love, love!
In the meadows above
I look for my love
And he left without a word.
Love, love!
To fight thou art gone
While I stay here alone.
He came past, and vanished fleet.
I beheld him and I loved
But we never more shall meet.
Not a farewell did I say;
None there is to help him now--
Sourb Carapet, 1 bless his way!
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