| They fell that year they vanished
|
| From the earth,
|
| Never knowing the cause
|
| Or what laws the offended,
|
| The women few as well
|
| And the babies they tendered.
|
| Left to die left to cry
|
| All condemned by their birth.
|
| They fell like rain
|
| Across the thirsty land,
|
| In their heart they were slain,
|
| In their god still believing
|
| All their pity and pain,
|
| In that season of grieving
|
| All in vain all in vain
|
| Just for one helping hand.
|
| For no one heard their prayers,
|
| In a world bent on pleasure
|
| Form others people care
|
| They simply closed their eyes
|
| They create allot of sound
|
| In jazz and right time measure
|
| The trumpets screamed till dawn
|
| To drown the children’s cries.
|
| They fell like leaves
|
| Its people its prime,
|
| Simple man kindly man,
|
| And no one new his crime
|
| The became in that hour
|
| Like the small desert flower
|
| Simply covered by the silent wind
|
| In sands of time.
|
| They fell that year
|
| Before a cruel foe
|
| They had little to give
|
| But their lives and their passion,
|
| And their longing to live
|
| In their way
|
| In their fashion
|
| So their harvest can
|
| Thrive their children can grow.
|
| They fell like flies
|
| Their eyes still full of sound
|
| Like a dove its flight
|
| In the path of rifle
|
| That fall down were it might,
|
| That holds on with its might
|
| As if death were a trifle
|
| And to bring to an end
|
| A life barely begun.
|
| And I am of that race,
|
| Who die in unknown places
|
| Who perished in their pride,
|
| Whose blood in rivers ran,
|
| In agony and fright
|
| With courage on their faces
|
| They went in to the night,
|
| That waits for every man.
|
| They fell like tears
|
| And never new what for
|
| In that summer of strife
|
| Of massacre and war
|
| Their only crime was life
|
| There only guilt was fear
|
| The children of Armenia
|
| Nothing less nothing more |