Darius wrote: “Armenia trembled.”
The king sat on his throne in Parsa, fat with gold and incense, while his scribes flattened clay. But my people—the rock-cutters, the rope-men, the ones with dust in their lungs—we kissed the cliff at Bagastana. Three hundred feet up, wind snapping at our backs like a whip. behistunskaa nadpis- armenia
Darius’s hand did not carve this.