When I was a little girl, my mother would sing me a song in Armenian. I remember lying in bed in the darkness of my room and concentrating on her silhouette as she would sing. She would sing to me often, you know. She would sing even as I got older and one day she asked me to sing it for her.
It makes me sad to remember that because I did not sing back to her at a time that she really needed me for support. Now I sing any all songs I know to her when she goes to sleep in hopes of making up for all the times that I did not.
This song is very old - I do not even know if I could find it anywhere but in some aging song book written in Armenian decades ago. So I will try my best to provide an extremely rough translation of the song into english. I title this song after its first line.
Silver moon, window dust
Scattered on the ground
Heavy, aching woman
My sad heart heaves
The woman's tree grows*
The leaves will breathe
Birds on a branch
With longing they perch
* Not quite sure how this line translates.
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