This is ought to be the first line from a poem by Sayat Nova, or so I have heard it on radio. In the Russian translation he defying death like John Donne in his "Death, be not Proud". He is mortal but he will still sing solace to the poor and love to the lal-cheeked maidens. I wish someone would rewrite that in the proper Turkish or Azerbaijani orthography so that I could finally feed it into google. Sayat Nova is esteemed very highly both in Georgia and in Armenia. I want to google the opinions of Turks. And if don't find any Turkish opinion, I hope to find more of his Turkish language poetry.