leqsebi

VIOLET ON THE MOUNTAIN
Hawks will use to line their nests;
And the whites around your eyes,
Will be mirrors for the crows.
Ot’! Alas, poor Mirangula,
The oxen you seized from the foe
They stood in a ring around you.
Pity, too, the priests of Ushgul,
They had gone for trade to Malq’ar;
They were captured by the Savs,
Who shaved off their beards while standing.
Pity, too, the wives of Ushgul;
They stripped off their underwear.
Praised be Ushgul’s St. Lamaria!
Then the priests escaped from Malq’ar,
On the road found Mirangula.
The nine oxen he had captured
They took for a lukhor feast.
Praised be Ushgul’s St. Lamaria!
The lukhor feast is held in Ushgul.
— What will we bake for his sepsk’wer?
— We will bring Lenjerian wheat.
Then Lamaria spoke to them:
“I will not have lentil sepsk’wer!»
She asked for Jerusalem wheat.
The threshing-place is At’k’wer mountain,
The winnowing-place is Mushur pass,
The drying and grinding at Twetnuld’s peak.
“Praised be Ushgul’s St. Lamaria!
We will bake this for his sepsk’wer.»
Monks are dwelling by the Black Sea:
Holy wine was brought from there.
From the sea God sent an ox,
Tapers, incense on its horns.
Ushgul’s chief was Pankwesyan,
At Ushgul the lukhor started.
Mukhruchyan from the valley’s end,
He was toasted at the lukhor.
The floor broke under the gathered priests,
Then they went their separate ways.
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