Live our children, but not like us.

This is a blessing given by the older generation to the youth. The great Armenian poet HohvanessToumanian
has written a short poem illustrating this proverbial blessing.

The Old Blessing

Under a giant, green walnut tree
Crosslegged together knee to knee
Our elders sat in a group
an august circle, wizened troup
They were having a good time
laughing at song and rhyme
Our stately grandfathers and fathers
The stewards and village guarders

We, active, village youth
Students seeking the truth
standing before them unaware of our fate
submissive to our destiny in wait
Reciting choice poetry out loud
Singing songs of our culture proud
Blissfully we ended by bowing to the revered host
Who twirled his beard and rose for a toast

All our hallowed elders raised their mugs
And blessed us saying,
Live our children but not like us.

Time passed and so did they
Our joyful song became a sad lay
I remembered our young days with tears
How they blessed us in past years
And why they said, Live our children but not like us.

Peace to you, our ill-fated fathers dear
We too have endured many years.
Either in days of joy or misery
We will bless our children solemnly
With your words,
Live our children but not like us.