99 - all you should know about the Genocide April, 2014 | Page 61

Margarit Mkhitaryan | 01.07.1915, birthplace – Kars
We were from a village near Kars, I can’t recall its name. When the massacres began, my parents
took me and my brother, and migrated to Eastern Armenia. I was a few months old at the time.
My brother was around 3 years old, blond and very handsome. My mother told us how they rubbed
soot on my brother’s face and hair, so that the Turks wouldn’t take him.
I don’t remember our house or lifestyle in Kars, but I remember a prayer that my mother would
say – it was a common one among the people there. I remember it to this day.
Flame, truthful flame,
Honest martyr,
My dear Christ.
Christ sat on the horse and mule,
And went to the just city on high,
To bring a crown of light.
The house was there, it was of iron.
Its roof was fully steel.
St. Hripsime was asleep,
St. Karapet was awake,
Masis was at its brim,
The brave staff had closed the door,
The smell of fresh bread emerged,
Go and take a look - who’s there?
They have come, they have come – three strong horsemen,
One is Jesus, one the Christ, one – the offering of the Virgin.
Welcome, all of you.
My heart will not be scared until the coming of Christ
May aches of the eye, stomach, head and joints,
And everyday troubles that may arise
Stay far, far, far away.

Margarit Mkhitaryan and her re latives at Hayrivank, 1960s.