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The villages in Armenia do not nestle, do not sit, they stand upon our mountains from dawn to dusk holding up green hands. They are keeping up the sun, and from dusk to dawn they float off pieces of the stars in brooks and rivers to the sea. They do not rest, they stand.

They are the first to embrace clouds that bring in spring, the first to smell thunder and first to hear the winging in of cranes.

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Even though they are greeted by winter much too fast they do not sit upon our mountains; they stand.

Translated from Armenian by Diana Der-Hovanessian

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