Trafika Europe 4 - Armenian Rhapsody

“Some day I’ll marry and have a son With hair of chestnut brown. One day, I know he’ll climb this tree And he’ll come tumbling down. Alas, alas, Kikos dear! Alas, dear Kikos is dead!”

All four of them wailed in chorus, “Alas, dear Kikos is dead!”

The peasant thought a bit.

“Look here, you foolish women,” he said. “Why are you crying? You know you can’t bring poor little Kikos back to life with your tears. Let us go home instead, and invite the neighbours to a feast in Kikos’s memory. Such is life, we come and we depart it.” All they possessed was an ox and a bag of flour. They killed the ox, and baked bread, and invited the guests. Then they ordered a mass for Kikos’s soul, and held a feast in his memory.

That calmed them all, and they went on living as peacefully as before.

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