Gold Scottish Hills

Gold Scottish Hills
© Surazeus
2024 09 02

Cold sea wind blows across gold Scottish hills 
with eager hope to find my fragile bones 
and pierce my soul with anguish of desire 
to see your eyes shine with bright stars of love, 
yet far away on Istros River shore 
you lie alone in verdant woods of Scythia. 

Home to Lake Sevan I still long to go 
where eagles glide in swirls of mountain snow 
to stand with you again on temple porch 
and light eternal flame of truth for Mihr, 
son of our father Artinis the Wise 
who watches me dwell in gold Scottish hills. 

Noble soul of Artinis shines in me 
to fill my heart with courage from despair 
four thousand years in ceaseless spin of time 
which motivates my endless journey west 
from Scythia to Scotland to Oregon 
where I was born far from gold Scottish hills. 

No matter where I roam across Gothinia, 
charming spirit of Scythia guides my way 
from valleys of the rugged Caucasus, 
across deep maze of the snow-frosted Alps, 
to the wind-swept slopes of the Grampians, 
till I dwell safe in the gold Scottish hills. 

In every forest where we journey far, 
the pink Eurasian Jay with azure wings 
greets us with rasping screech of desperate hope 
while hoarding acorns for our winter feast 
that nourishes our quest to find new home 
hidden in mist of the gold Scottish hills. 

Though wolves and owls fall silent in the woods 
when autumn leaves swirl with slow turn of years 
I listen for enchanting melodies 
of Celtic flutes that echo among oaks 
while I gaze at sunlight on the lake 
that calls me homeward to gold Scottish hills. 

As silver water flows over smooth stones 
that gleam white as the moon among black clouds 
I lift my voice and sing strange dreamless words 
with ache of sorrow for the ones I lost 
on signless roads Scythia to Oregon 
yet rain still sparkles on gold Scottish hills. 

Ten thousand years of time are not enough 
to lighten weight of sorrow on my heart 
at memory of our journey far from home 
yet Artinis lives always in my heart, 
guiding me ever on the road of faith 
from Armenia to the gold Scottish hills.