Akhtamar by Hovhannes Toumanian

Here's a proper story by the Armenian poet Hovhannes Toumanian (1869 - 1923), peace-maker and national poet of Armenia.

Beside the laughing lake of Van
A little hamlet lies
Each night into the waves a man
Leaps under darkened skies.

He cleaves the waves with mighty arm,
Needing no raft or boat,
And swims, disdaining risk and harm,
Towards the isle remote.

On the dark island burns so bright
A piercing, luring ray:
There's lit a beacon every night
To guide him on his way.

Upon the island is that fire
Lit by Tamar the fair,
Who waits, all burning with desire,
Beneath the shelter there.

The lover's heart - how it does beat!
How beat the roaring waves!
But, bold and scorning to retreat,
The elements he braves.

And now Tamar the fair doth hear,
With trembling heart aflame,
The water splashing - oh, so near,
And fire consumes her frame.

All quiet is on the shore around,
And, black there looms a shade:
The darkness utters not a sound,
The swimmer finds the maid.

The tide-waves ripple, lisp and splash
And murmur, soft and low;
The urge each other, mingle, clash
As, ebbing, out they go.

Flutter and rustle the dark waves
And with them every star
Whipers how sinfully behaves
The shamleless maid Tamar

Their whisper shakes her throbbing heart
This time, as was before!
The youth into the waves does dart,
The maiden prays on shore.

But certain villains, full of spite,
Against them did conspire,
And on a hellish, mirky night
Put out the guiding fire.

The luckless lover lost his way,
And only from afar
The wind is carrying in his sway
The moans of 'Ah, Tamar!'

The through the night his voice is heard
Upon the craggy shores,
And, though it's muffled and blurred
By the waves' rapid roars,

The words fly forward - faint they are -
'Ah Tamar!

And in the morn the splashing tide
The hapless youth cast out,
Who, battling with the waters, died
In an unequal bout;

Cold lips are clenched, two words they bar:
'Ah, Tamar!'
And ever since, both near and far,
They call the island Akhtamar.

Well, it was never going to end well, was it?


Tamar, on Akdamar Island by sculptor Rafael Petrosyan.

Word To Use Today: maid. This word comes from the Old English mæden. Entertainingly, it's not only related to the Old Norse mogr, young man, but the Old Irish mug, which means slave.