12 - Norayr Mnatsakanyan - Ashkharums Akh Chim Qashi - Աշխարհումս Ախ Չիմ Քաշի

[@ФлораБарсегян-к9м]

Все ваши песни пела моя дорогая , любимая мамочка ! Царствие ей небесное ! Она обожала Спят Новую ! Спасибо за воспоминание о мамочка ,огромное спасибо за божественный голос ! Браво !!!

[@yevginekhachatryan6592]

Hayeri hoguce galis amen lseluc hogis qadvum e

[@asyaseferyan5388]

Норайр, спасиба

[@haykavardabovyan9338]

Մեր Սայաթ Նովան ուրիշ է

[@h.d.a.2538]

Ինչ լավն ինք, հիփ ուզում ինք❤

[@oleksandrbozhko2152]

Inch nurb katarumn e!

[@LPETROSYAN]

Incredible!!!Thanks for posting!!!!

[@nparmenia]

Ձայնիդ մատաղ, զուլալ աղբյուրի նման հոսում է վարպետի ձայնը

[@mherarchakian2603]

MARCI

[@mh09903]

in4 bard,bayc mievnuyn jamanak nurb u qnqush kataruma

[@gevorkhublaryandm9679]

it's too difficult,this song is very old and you can find out about it by google )))

[@brianf5719]

What do these lyrics mean? It is one of the most beautiful melodies I've ever heard. Thank you very much for sharing.

[@emilshirinian3783]

Here is the translation of the lirics: I SIGH not, while thou art my soul ! Fair one, thou art to me A golden cup, with water filled of immortality. I sit me down, that over me may fall thy shadow, sweet; Thou art a gold-embroidered tent to shield me from the heat. First hear my fault, and, if thou wilt, then slay this erring man; Thou hast all power; to me thou art the Sultan and the Khan. Thy waist is like a cypress-tree, sugar thy tongue, in sooth; Thy lip is candy, and thy skin like Frankish satin smooth. Thy teeth are pearls and diamonds, the gates of dulcet tones; Thine eyes are gold-enamelled cups adorned with precious stones; Thou art a rare and priceless gem, most wonderful to see; A ruby rich of Mt. Bedakhsh, my love, thou art to me. How can I bear this misery, unless my heart were stone ? My tears are blood because of thee, my reason is o’erthrown. A young vine in the garden fresh thou art to me, my fair, Enshrined in greenness, and set round with roses everywhere. I, like the love-lorn nightingale, would hover over thee. A landscape of delight and love, my queen, thou art to me! Lo, I am drunken with thy love ! I wake, but my heart sleeps. The world is sated with the world; my heart its hunger keeps. What shall I praise thee by, when naught is left on earth, save thee ? Thou art a deer, a Pegasus sprung from the fiery sea ! Speak but one word, to say thou art Saïat Nova’s love, And then what matters aught to me, in earth or heaven above ? Thy rays have filled the world; thou art a shield that fronts the sun. Thou dost exhale the perfume sweet of clove and cinnamon, Of violet, rose, and marjoram ; to me, with love grown pale, Thou art a red flower of the field, a lily of the vale !