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HYEfamily.com .... for Armenian children and their families
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Nvair & her HYEfamily friends
TRANSLATIONS
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DEEGEEN SOSY'S CORNER Deegeen Sosy's views in verse
To E-mail Deegeen Sosy Click Here Remembering Armenia's May 28th HYE Celebrations on September 21st Ode To Saint Mesrop - Saint Sahag & The Holy Translators
2003
Hye Family ... You’re My Family Across the World, You’re There for Me Wherever I May Chance to Be A Fellow Hye I’m Sure to See
Whose Eyes with Ancient Glories Shine Or Fill with Tears... So Much like Mine Whose Sainted Fathers Firm and Strong With Faith ... with Spirit ... Soul and Song;
Trekked on to Find That Place in Time When Hayastan Would Rise Sublime And in an Age Unknown and New Declare Her Sovereignty Anew
Midst Nations near and Nations Far ...Reborn... Beneath Her Destined Star... Oh Hye Family ... You’re My Family ... You’ve Challenged All Adversity... ... Your Wings Have Touched Eternity... And Now with Love You’re Here for Me Forever ... and All Time to Be ... My Family... Hye Family
February 2004
If you are a Vartan Then this is your day It has come to enrich you From far and away
From a noble with courage Whose faith was his guide Who rose against power With GOD at his side
On the Avarayr Field Sixty-thousand stood strong As they challenged great might And for justice they longed
Keeping high in their hearts ...A religion so dear... That they died to protect it! And it’s with us... still here!
So this month, the 19th On Sts. Vartanantz Day We remember you, Vartan... ...And your men... as we pray...
February 2004
Poon Paregentan’s on its way Announcing that it’s time to play!
It’s time to sing and swing and dance To zing-a-ling and take a chance
To have a rock around the clock To jest and joke...and trick and mock
With merry masks and bells in hand With dress-up parties... Oh, so grand...
With noise and nonsence in the air Confetti raining everywhere...
We’ll have our fiercly foolish blast And do our best to make it last
With teasing... pleasing all around Poon Paregentan shall abound!
~~~~
And as we frolic night and day The joys of living to convey
Our spirits out upon the air Shall fly and flutter everywhere
Converging...surging fast and firm This shared existence to confirm
As hand in hand... and heart to heart Are human presence we impart
Prepared each year to do it all... We’ll heed the Paregentan call
And crown our days with peels of laughter All too aware... that LENT comes after!
February 2004
The Ancient Fathers clearly knew That diets needed swift review...
That heavy foods through Winter’s spell In Springtime didn’t fare too well.
Protective of their flock and fold Concerned with both the young and old,
They shared their wisdom long ago... And set a course we heed and know.
To cleanse our bodies, minds and souls, They cast away all greasy bowls.
Discarded every oily pan, And then, devised a "Lenten Plan"
"Abstaining" seemed the way to go... Once settled on... they deemed it so...
Then putting lids on meat and fat, On gravy’s drenching this and that...
Removing snacks from sight and mind And making nibbles hard to find,
Suspending "seconds" and repeats Eliminating sweets and treats.
...Declared a simple pledge to "Fast" Some fish and greens for light repast.
When coupled with a daily prayer In seven weeks would get us there.
No need had they for scales and charts For videos...with graphic arts
...Their plan took action straight away... ...Remaining firm until this day...
For sticking to the rules of Lent Results are surely Heaven sent
As dwindling inches well recorded Display how swiftly we’re rewarded.
Inscribed in Faith... Will Power a plus This "Lenten Plan" has come to us...
Transcending time & trial & test Bequeathed by those who sought the best.
So fly with it... you can’t go wrong! The forty days are not that long...
And you’ll come through a Lenten winner! Restored... renewed... and greatly thinner!
March 2004
Though "Hayastan" in measured mile Lies far beyond the Emerald Isle... With ancient roots in Noah’s Land Where mighty mountains hold command...
Yet "Hyes" are close in haunting ways To much that Irish life conveys Beginning with our Cross in Stone Which Celts, themselves...have also known
Within no other place on Earth Have ancient Cross Stones found their birth And so in mood and manner seen We hail the wearing of the green!
Akin to pangs of pain and sorrow... To visions of a bright tomorrow... To troubled times...to trial and test... To prayers that offer peace and rest.
Akin to chance...to noble dance... To endless tears across the years... To love of land within the heart ...Though worlds away... though miles apart...
Akin to Pipers’ mournful drones... To mystic aires in lilting tones To stubborn strength...to grave lament ...Adrift beneath the firmament...
And thus in March when Shamrocks bloom And Irish passions clear the gloom We join with them in celebration... As they extol their faith and nation!
With them we kiss the Blarney Stone ...With Irish coffee...set the tone... And joining in their grand array... We welcome forth St. Patrick’s Day!
Reflecting on "Our" Pot O’ Gold... "Our" ancient claims... "Our" rights untold... We step along...And sing their song ...St. Patrick "Hyes"...the whole day long...
March 16, 2004
"Did you believe that I had gone?" Laughed Winter...briskly whirling on... "When first you saw a Spring-like thaw Caress the landscape frozen raw?"
"When all those zephyrs light and mild Brought calm to tempests running wild And settled bouts of biting freeze Engaging with a kinder breeze?"
"Do you not know the many tricks From which I get my licks and kicks Or how I revel hard and full In frigid weather’s push and pull?"
"So now I’m raging once again... With all the zest I gave you then... Arranging one more snowy spree As Spring prepares for Victory!"
April 2004
An Easter Sunday... when you’re HYE Can never lightly flutter by For from the wings of Holy Week It lifts us to a lofty peak Where old and young and big and small ...Together... meet a Higher Call...
First off to church to say a prayer... With candles burning everywhere With censors rustling closely by And incense rising fast and high With sacred language on our lips And tightly templed fingertips ...We celebrate our Liturgy... ... Ascend within its Mystery... ...Receive Communion, Love and Grace... And with the Kiss of Peace embrace. ...Remembering in heart-felt Prayer The ones we love... no longer there... ...We celebrate this day of days... With all the promise it conveys
Caught up with chatting left and right With almost everyone in sight... Acknowledging the folks we know Amazed at how the kiddies grow We hurry off to friends and kin ...Where Easter happenings begin... Where Easter Bunnies, Eggs and Choreg, Where Pakhlava and cheese-filled Boreg And Hareesah and Yalanchee And Meedya piled abundantly Appear amid a grand array ...The tried and true Armenian Way...
With little room to move about We meet and greet with joyful shout And ‘round a hugely festive table We squeeze as many as we’re able And snugly, tightly close together No matter what the wind and weather Enjoy the spreads distinctly yummy Perfected for the tongue and tummy Delight in all the best of treats Along with Easter Basket Sweets
Then playing Eggs in HYE Tradition With expertise we check condition... And choosing one...take aim to see Just who our Easter Champ will be... And loudly cheering for the winner Move straight ahead with Easter dinner Exchanging stories all day long And weaving in our dance and song... Consuming tons of Jelly Beans And custard tarts and chocolate preens We put the wrap on Easter Day With love and laughter all the way!
And when it’s time to say good-bye ...We reminisce... we hug and cry... We doggy bag...we shopping bag With long farewells that stretch and drag... We pledge with every falling tear To set aside the date next year And Celebrate with Joy again ...As those who came before...did then From near... from far...from miles away ...That’s being HYE... on Easter Day...
by Anoush Krikorian (1903 - 2004) translated from Armenian by Sosy Krikorian Kadian
My gentle world of ancient magnificence, Stricken by the breathless turbulence of that day, Surrounded me in ruins Ravaged by death and terror, The nest of my childhood was gone...
It had been more than a year Since my father had been taken prisoner Along with the countless others Who had arise to the call of revolution In the days of Serop Aghbiour, He had been thrown into the prison of Akhlat, And without word of him, Knowing not if he lived, We had somehow gone on, Seeing all our days turn night.
I, who remained among the unworthy living, Found myself this day, Naked and starving, wandering in terror Through the streets of Akhlat; And as if ushered by an inner strength, Climbing a path that led me upward, I came upon a solitary street. I knew not where I had been, Nor how I had wandered to this place I knew, only, that I walked among wolves, And evil was all about me. As I came to the top of the street, I suddenly saw before me, the stone wall That surrounded the prison of Akhlat. A small fountain of water ran along the outside, And a Turkish soldier, bearing a bayoneted rifle, Stood, guarding a prisoner, Who carrying a small bucket, Was taking water from the fountain.
Dazed and trembling, I took a few uncertain steps, Moving closer to the Turk and his prisoner. The Turkish soldier’s eyes rested heavy upon me, And I, filled with the horror of his image, Stared blindly at him. Something other than my own will Had brought me to this prison wall, And placed me beside this prisoner. As I stood there; And as I looked in childlike bewilderment, My eyes, through the tears, Told me that this prisoner, Was my father.
The Turkish soldier had brought him out To take water in to the others. It must have been his turn, This last day. I stood there beside my father, As he bent over the bucket, Careful to fill it and bring it back inside, Never saw his young son Stand near him.
The Turkish soldier looked my way thoughtfully. Perhaps he thought me a young Turk. I never knew. But all at once the nearness of someone, Must have reached my father’s consciousness, For slowly turning his head, His piercing eyes fell upon my face, With our eyes upon each other, Remained for that moment, transfixed. No sound was made. No word was spoken. Our souls embraced, And in that brief silence, Our spirits spoke, and touched...
Perhaps, so that Turkish soldier Would not know that I was his prisoner’s son, And thus spare my life, My father remained silent. So many countless children had found their death Upon the blade of the Turk. Why should I have been spared? My father lifted the bucket silently, As the Turkish soldier, Impatiently ordering him to return inside the prison, Began moving along.
Remaining as I was, unable to move, I never for a moment took my eyes from my father. And he, before turning to leave, Without a word, Placed his hand within the breast of his tattered shirt, And from it, Taking a small morsel of bread, Stretched out his arm, And placed the bread Within my slender hand.
My trembling fingers could do no more Than take that morsel of bread. Prodded by the bayonet of the Turkish soldier, My father turned and walked Toward that black prison door. The distance between us grew; He turned once again, His eyes meeting mine for the last time, The prison door closed- And my father was gone...
The following morning, the final morning, Turkish soldiers ordering all Armenian prisoners From the prison, Led them out roped together in long rows, One behind the other, And before our terror filled eyes, Shot them down without mercy, In an open field, On the northern shore of Lake Van. Wet with their blood, The field echoed interminably, With the wailing and screeching Of the women and children who had stood witness.
This was but one of the innumerable, Horrendous atrocities suffered by my people, But it became the moment of my life That never left me. The morsel of bread, that my father, that day, Silently placed within my hand, Had been his faith and his conviction. From the breast of his tattered shirt, He had given me, His life. That small morsel of bread, I know now, Had been my father’s communion to me.
Anoush Krikorian was born in the village of Akhlat, Bitlis which lies on the western shore of Lake Van of Historic Armenia. Having emigrated to the United States in 1920, he lived most of his life in New York City. With his daughter at his side, he passed away at the age of 101 years old in New Jersey, USA.
Anoush’s daughter, Sosy Krikorian Kadian is an educator, writer and community leader. She is known to many as "Deegeen Sosy". She is also Nvair’s mother and primary advisor.
May 9, 2004
Is
there any other but a mother Within
the whole wide world So
prepared to share with such loving care What
about her is unfurled? Placed
on high alert... mending every hurt And
on guard for each event She
will sooth & heal... she will wheel & deal But
she clearly won’t relent... Mother
mixes, fixes, stacks & packs She
snaps & wraps & scrubs She
dices, slices, bakes & rakes As
she scoots us to our tubs. Though
arranging lunches, books & bags She
will find the missing shoes And
allaying fears... wiping anxious tears Discombobulates
the blues. In
her urgent tone on the telephone Getting
whiffs of burning toast She’ll
debate the fate of a future date With
her eye upon the roast. Wearing
sweats & jeans... she both jogs and cleans And
she plants and prunes & seeds And
then dressed and out... and around about Tackles
church and civic needs.
No
conditions are there to her love To
her wisdom & her care... To
her store of secret remedies Ever
present... ever there She’s
the saint of every household She’s
the star that lights our way The
teacher, preacher, nurse and friend Who
lets nothing go astray And
as now we see with alacrity Her
most special day arriving Rich
with gifts & flowers... straight across the hours There
about her doorstep thriving We’ll
again convey in our special way That
“We adore you, Mother!” And
from every heart... treasured love impart ...for on earth... there is no other...
Remembering Armenia’s May 28th May 2004
I am May Twenty Eighth! And I rose in your midst The oppression of six hundred years To resist...
As a beacon of hope I ignited the way... As I showered new promise On each dawning day.
From the hearts of my people From courage and vision From their faith and their tears From their life of derision.
I arrived like a torrent Through oceans of grief... And emblazoned with FREEDOM ...Restored their belief...
And they harkened and rallied... They strengthened and soared... As that FREEDOM... at last... Through the countryside roared!
And Armenia arose With the strength of her past! As she witnessed new birth ...Out of darkness... at last!
Not to ever again... Suffer blows of despair... But with all other nations New destinies share!
And thus moving ahead... With new times and new ways Amid nations emerging Toward bright newer days.
Armenia stands tall With antiquity’s force! Her renewed Independence On track and on course!
Born of May Twenty Eighth’s ...Sainted vision and thirst... When across all Armenia... She declared FREEDOM... first...
June 2004
Our
fathers were Hairig and Babig and Baba… They sipped sugared tea with their choreg and katah
At
the table they’d sit… in their own chosen place And you’d judge your next move… by the look on their face
They
would raise their “Five Brothers” … if we misbehaved As their hand, waving strong… further reprimand saved
And
while others were through with a full day at school We were off to HYE Lessons… according to rule
They
commanded respect… fully dressed…with a tie… All their HYE periodicals… kept closely by…
For
their view of the world came from all that was there And not merely from news that The Times had to share
Though their pockets were empty, their spirits were full They struggled and managed with each push and pull
Their
fabric of life… with both laughter and tears Kept us warm and secure through those galloping years
There
are none… like our fathers… about us today To adhere more to values… than light-hearted play…
And
we long for their sagas, their stories and tales For their visions of hope… over trials and travails
And
as Father’s Day now sweeps the country again Looking back… we’ll recall… how it was for us then…
When
a Hairig, or Babig or Baba was there With sweet lilts of language… so ready to share…
And
content to have gleaned what they offered… and knew… We’ll go on… just as they… with our HYE point-of-view
July
18, 2004 Our
Vartavar with sprinkles sweet In
Mid July… is summer’s treat A
gift of joy from distant years Delighting
us with liquid cheers For
‘round about our ancient land With
cooling waters close at hand Our
people douse & drench & spray… In
festive frolic fill the day Engaged
in chase from here to there …refreshed
by water… everywhere… Amid
the roses blooming ‘round In
summer happiness abound A
boy might seek a girl or two… Then
wet & dripping… bill & coo …While
on alert… the young & old The
short & tall… the meek and bold By
sudden water treats… surprised… Their
summer promise realized With
swirling spirits in the air Midst
water flying free of care Through
streets… or fields… beneath the sun All
revel in this summer fun… …In early years… recalling well… in
old new york... so slick & swell …We
too… would splish & splash with glee And
slosh each other merrily… As
“Hyes” at green Van Cortland Park Our
picnicking… ‘til nearly dark Would
wet & worn from Vartavar …On
city subways… travel far… And
sing & dance their well-soaked way …Back
home… from joys… that filled the day And
now you’ve heard this summer tale With
all the antics that prevail… With
“HYE” reflections held in view …So
much a part of me… and you… So
on Vartavar… just make your dash Prepared
to give… and get… that SPLASH! And you’ll engage in glories… passed… but more... much more... you'll have a blast!
HYE Celebrations On September 21st September 2004
Across the seething centuries … With God…we’ve made our way… And as nations ‘round us rise and fall … We’re determined… here… to stay…
Armed with vision and with valor Fueled by passions of the heart …We resurrect… we reconnect… And recoup for one more start
We’re the stuff of Haig and Aram Of Soorp Mesrop and of Vartan Of Gayane and Santoukht Of Mher and of Dikran
And the courage of their actions Their unyielding willful style… The resolve of their convictions Lives within our every mile
They’ve propelled us through the ages They’ve inspired us through time And their spirits shape our destiny With a radiance, sublime…
And as timeless mountains throb and quake While we nestle at their side Knowing life about them thrives again With restored historic pride…
Abreast with nations of the world Renewed in step and pace Our self-determination clear Integrity in place…
We celebrate our liberty! Acclaiming loud and free… That empowered with our nationhood We’ll go on eternally!
And with harvests of the autumn …In September… every year… On the 21st… HYE hearts will burst… For Armenia… still… is here!
To
Saint Mesrop - Saint Sahag
And
The Holy Translators
Enlightened by the breath of God
And the glory of His love
Ennobled by His wonders
With His guidance from above
…Saint Mesrop…blessed of vision
With Saint Sahag’s faith at hand…
His spirit bold with dreams untold
For his treasured ancient land
In the presence of Arch Angels
Sounding trumpets through the air
Midst harps and flutes and lilting lutes
Heard resounding everywhere
In a blazing blinding moment
Bringing Heaven down to earth
…Crafted thirty eight bold letters…
Gave them light and sight and birth
One for every sound…precisely found
…Never seen before or heard…
That pristine and new… in anointed view
Would transliterate God’s word
Wrought through prayer and contemplation
Through devout determination
By divine enunciation
To personify our nation
And the spoken word… with the written word
…Ever after… side by side…
Would upon the crest of centuries
Give our destiny its stride
For as truths came surging forward
On to parchment from the quill…
As texts and sacred miniatures
Were adorned with passioned skill…
As books and scrolls from sainted souls
In a script our very own
With anointed grace… found their hallowed place
Seeds of faith were swiftly sown…
Blessed with God’s own breath before us
In the language of our heart
With His doctrine to restore us
We enhanced our Christian start
And as on we’d go… swept by wind or woe
With our Ayp and Pehn in hand
We’d embrace each word, whether seen or heard As the promise of our land
And in honoring Saint Mesrop and Saint Sahag
… Every year…
We retrieve their crowning moments
…Draw their sacred spirits near…
For endowed with their creation
Their avowed determination
Through accord or tribulation …Evermore… we’re one HYE Nation…
2004
With every Christmas bell that’s rung
With every wreath and garland hung
With every Carole sweetly sung
For HYEs there’s something more…
With every brightly tinseled tree
With presents opened merrily
…For every you… and every me…
There’s something else in store
For just when things are said and done
When we have had our New Year’s fun…
And decorations come undone…
Our blessed time arrives
ARMENIAN CHRISTMAS comes around!
And “CHRIST IS BORN” in churches sound!
As sacred joys for HYEs abound
While celebration thrives!
How stanch we’ve been through history
Our faith entwined in mystery
Our love embracing family
Our vision cast afar…
How wise that everywhere we go
…We build God’s home to help us grow…
To shed on us that ancient glow
Of who and what we are
And now… we have our HYE-est treat!
That treat we cherish & repeat!
When joined in prayer… we meet & greet…
Before God’s wondrous STAR!
…On January 6th …with JOY…
Armenian Christmas we’ll enjoy!
As HYEs…transcending time employ
…What’s theirs and ours from long and far…
So never fret and never fear
We’ll see this treasured time each year
…With all your HYE lights burning clear… Armenian Christmas… will appear!
January 2005
It’s January 1st Again A Time to View the Where and When Of All Those Months That Scurried By ...Upon the Run... Upon the Fly...
Without Intent to Stay a While In Perfect Time... in Rank and File ...About as Fast as They Appeared... Before Our Eyes They Disappeared!
Each Dawn... Each Dusk Meandered on And Hastened till Completely Gone Inviting Through a Fresher Year To Deal with All That’s Perking Here
With Mysteries Held Well in Store With Something Less... with Something More Pristine and New...Unmarred; Unstained; With Dreams in Earnest Found or Gained
With Hopes and Fears... with Smiles and Frowns With Highs and Lows... and Ups and Downs Prepared to Claim a Rightful Place And Reign Across this Earthly Space
And for ARMENIA.... OLD... and NEW... Great Strength and Promise to Pursue With Blessings Gleaned Throughout the World By HYEs Who from Their Nest Were Hurled
...To Twelve New Months... a Brand New Year! We Offer Welcome; Love and Cheer! And Pray That When It’s Had its Run ...A Better Time... Shall Have Begun...
By
Sosy Krikorian Kadian February
2005 For
seven long weeks without any peeks Our
Altars are somberly sealed Draped
in curtains of black… firmly set on their track Keeping
glories from being revealed Thanks
to Adam and Eve who were known to deceive When
they tasted that Apple of Sin And
by GOD who is just out of Heaven were thrust …
We as well are expelled from within… Left
before Heaven’s gate to repent and to wait Cleansing
body and spirit and mind …Through
denial and test… pledging all of our best… …Sacred
welcome we struggle to find Beseeching GOD’s favor…imploring for love We
proceed with Liturgical Song …Even
having to cease giving Kisses of Peace Seven
Sundays we struggle along And
when all’s said and done… when our status is won And
we’re no longer banished to falter… Through
our penitent tears just as Heaven appears Darkened
veils are withdrawn from the Alter So
with patience and heart sacred prayers we impart …Seven
weeks without glimmer or shine… Reassured
all the while, GOD shall notice and smile …And
from Heaven… send Blessings Divine…
For 90 Long Years Now Unburied You Lie Amid Mountains and Hills That Ascend to the Sky
About Meadows That Flourished in Starlight and Sun When Kingdoms Arose Before Time Had Begun
Where Your Saints- Ever Blessed -Crafted Language to See And Your Knights Gave Their Lives to Be Christian and Free
Where but One Lightning Sword Blazed for Freedom and Right And Where Heroes, Through Darkness, Found Liberty’s Light
You’re in Woodlands of Old That Once Shielded You Well That Afforded You Promise to Thrive and to Dwell
You’re in Rivers That Carried Your Limbs Through Their Flood And in Caverns and Caves Hardened Red with Your Blood
Two Million Destroyed ... Your Babes Never Born... Whose Locks and Whose Curls Would Be Braided or Shorn
In the Wild Wake of Bloodshed... Decreed and Employed Half a Nation Dismantled... Dispersed... and Destroyed
No Incense Arises Above Your Remains No Laments Can Be Heard... but for Swallows and Cranes
For Your Grave Is Your Homeland... Your Gravestone, the Years And as Requiems Thunder Through Decades of Tears...
"We" Your Descendants, in Quest of Your Star Endowed with Your Spirit from Near and from Far
Disclaimed... Disavowed... Dismantled... Decried From Our Homeland Kept Banished... Dismissed and Denied
In All Parts of the World... Resurrected... Anew GOD’s Banners in Hand...Ever Faithful and True
We Arise to Your Vision in Action and Deed Arise in Your Name...Through Your Sinew and Seed
With the Strength of "Our Mountain" United We Stand Seeking Justice and Truth... Our Commitment in Hand
We Forever Enshrine You Before Heaven and Earth Though You Lie There Unburied...On Lands of Your Birth
September 2005
Is it any surprise within eras gone by That our strong mountain folk pined for sites that were high? Leaving Gurgour and Nemroud and Sassoun behind Ever yearning for heights they could anywhere find They sought tar-covered rooftops not far from their doors Found apartments tucked up on the highest of floors On the lookout for Groongs… made room for the Stork From one common address they called “Top-floor New York”.
They’d for centuries nested in mountains of old And were raised upon legends and lore that was told Having one faithful Esh to bear all of their loads They knew nothing of subways or trolleys or roads And landing on shores dense with structures stacked high Built of steel and of glass… nearly piercing the sky They were taken aback; left unsure of their space Without sanctified Toneers and mountains of grace… So wherever life took them they sought higher ground And that ground just by chance somehow always was found.
Early spying Van Cortlandt’s vast spread to the north Armed with shish kebab skewers they’d on Sundays march forth! Without tables or benches or charcoal in sight They built fires with branches and reveled ‘til night Claiming one special rise on the highest terrain Where they spent summer Sundays through sunshine or rain Finding Landsmen to sing and to dance in the round As if nurtured and healed by the mountains they’d found …In Manhattan…creating their first mountain spot And for countless lean summers Van Cortlandt was hot!
But then money was made and their families grew And soon autos were purchased…though at first by a few Then forgetting their Esh… fathers learned how to drive! And soon treks to the mountains set spirits alive.
Taking small winding roads far from bright city lights They explored farther north massive mountainous heights ‘Til discovering …Tannersville… called it their home And for summers to come never more wish to roam.
Nesting closely together dismissing their cares They established Hotels… and they made Catskill theirs… And soon “Catskillee Djampan” became their hit song As ecstatically singing… all rambled along Spinning dreams of delicious delight on the way With that Kef-rousing song that we still sing today.
But since nothing’s forever… those times have now gone… And we’ve only their tales to dwell fondly upon Pure and simple and sweet shared by one and by all Though departed… imparted… for treasured recall.
Yet today with Camp Nubar and Vartan around Further days amid mountains shall surely abound… Upon new graceful sites and their soft clustered heights For HYE children to share summer days… summer nights As they’ve done up beyond in Camp Haiastan’s hills Where HYE passion and pride the whole atmosphere fills.
For still surging and urging through pangs of our own Tremble mountains and peaks ‘round which legends were sown Rising strong in our hearts wheresoever we are… While we cherish their glories from near or afar As our forefathers did within eras gone by When their summits proclaimed “We Are Here And We’re HYE!”
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