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This morning more than ever I am seized by an irresistible longing to speak my mother tongue. I search for an Armenian, any Armenian, with whom I can speak. If you understand this strange, irresistible longing, please help me.

I would like to meet an Armenian, any Armenian, even an alienated one who has forgotten his mother tongue. Let him remember a single word only; and let our paths cross so that I may say to him: Are you Armenian? And if he were to nod yes with his head, I would immediately cry out the words taught to me by my father and mother: Pari Louys! In the name of everything that is holy, I swear to you there can be nothing sweeter, nothing more heart-rending.

ow much meaning have our ancestors placed in that expression!… O my lovely Armenian language: as fresh as the morn and as deep as the night; as frolicsome as a child and as wise as an old man; as consoling as a prayer and as beautiful as Spring.

O my sweet Armenian language fit for a mighty king as well as a humble peasant, suitable for townspeople as well as villagers, ever youthful, ever mighty, may you live forever.

– SHAVARSH NARTUNI (1898-1968) was born in a small village near Istanbul but spent most of his life in Paris. After receiving his medical degree, he became involved in community affairs and contributed a ceaseless flow of essays, short stories, prose poems, and articles on different aspects of Armenian culture, some of which were later collected and published in 20 volumes.