November 5

...From the native ruins, conflagrations, cataclysms, earth and ashes have been sifted upon you. Before your eyes, they have slaugh­tered your infants. Enough of imploring mercy and pity. Demand power, revenge, rage, victory or death.

         What has befallen you my immortal people? Why have you al­lowed your granaries to be filled with infants' blood - your hearths' flame to wane, your castles' gate to be demolished?

         Indeed, you used to be powerful. With your sword and shield you cut through land and sea, you invincible nimrod. From battlefield to bat­tlefield, from victory to victory, you made your way; you came triumphantly and dominantly to suspend your shield from the peak of Urartean Ararat, totally transforming the region into a new homeland for your offspring...

          Why did your vigor subside and your archers go limp? Is it per-
­haps because you betrayed your ancient, virtuous, brave gods and they, in turn, abandoned you my unfortunate, my poor and battered people?

         When it is twilight among us, daybreak is beginning for others.
The sun sets in one place and rises in another or, it is dusk behind it and dawn ahead of it. Whatever is dusk for us, it is dawn for someone else.

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