“Stop, traveler, in front of this unknown burial mound in which I am not destined to come to peace. And tell me – is there still peace and sun? God forbid, have the hearts of the Armenians fallen asleep even though the dead have no peace because they have no graves?
Do you hear, traveler, the voice, the rebellious voices of the dead, the call coming from the glades sprinkled with Armenian blood? The call of the innumerable victims of the red-bloody massacre? An unceasing call which, like a violent storm, roars against the deafness of mankind and then like a tired hurricane groans at the door of its dead conscience?
The dead want graves, traveler. Oh, blessed are the lucky people sleeping in their native land, three times blessed…
The dead should come to peace… Then, I will come to peace as well when the three giants of the Armenian world – Masis, Nemrut, and Sipan – exclaim enthusiastically:
‘Hey, hey, we belong to the Armenians again, we are Armenian again, we are Armenia again…’
Tell me, traveler, is this day far?
Are you crying, have you stopped fighting while I am still fighting, still continuing the fight?
To battle, traveler, to battle so that the Armenians living in a foreign land return to their homeland and our unburied dead find their graves. To battle!”
