The Four Featured Kurdish Poets
As the Ottoman Empire dissolved, the modern nations that emerged fragmented the Kurds, a distinct ethnic group, across Turkey, Syria, Iraq, Iran, and Armenia. As minorities, they agitated for statehood of their own, earning only systematic physical and cultural persecution over the last century. After rebellion and civil war in 1980’s Iraq, Kurds achieved a semi-autonomous zone, governed by the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG). All four poets featured here came of age as writers and leaders during that time of tremendous upheaval.
Kajal Ahmad worked as a front-lines journalist, embedding as a member of the peshmerga. In the mountains, alongside the fighters, she began to write poetry. Like Ahmad, Sherko Bekas served in the peshmerga, fighting and organizing radio broadcasts. Bekas’ poetry began as soldiers’ anthems. Abdulla Pashew and Dlawar Qaradaghi wrote at home and in exile abroad. Both Pashew and Qaradaghi became fluent in other languages: Pashew in English and Russian, Qaradaghi in Swedish. Both became translators, bringing major western poets, playwrights, philosophers, and novelists into Kurdish.
As these poets have lived through the last two decades, they have responded similarly to their disappointments. Ahmad withdrew from public life, the societal pressure on her stultifying. She still lives and breathes for the idea of Kurdistan, but finds that the changes she fought for have not come to pass. Bekas embraced life as a cultural figure, founding and directing the major publishing houses in the region, Sardam. Toward the end of his life, disappointed in the political progress, he wrote the beautiful and controversial book-length poem, “Now a Girl is My Homeland.” Pashew, disgusted with the political corruption he saw, became, for a time, an early and high-profile dissident in Kurdish literature. He wrote against the two most influential Kurdish political parties. When he finally returned from exile, at his first reading the electricity and air conditioning were mysteriously cut off. His audience stayed, in the dark and the heat, to hear his work. Qaradaghi made in poetry an inner world, a landscape not of oil and politics and statehood, but of the surreal. He touches politics, if ever, through subtle and gentle satire.
These poets together represent a generation that fought Saddam Hussein and the Baathist regime, that brought about the formation of the semi-autonomous state, that stood beside American troops during the 2003 invasion, and that now leads the fight against the Islamic State. They worked to free the next generation from the corruption and warfare they knew. What they see is that their children serve as the soldiers now. Or else live, as they did, in exile.
Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse
Sulaimani, Iraq
Kajal Ahmad
Translated by Alana Marie Levinson-Labrosse, Mewan Nahro Said Sofi, Darya Abdul-Karim, Ali Najm, and Barbara Goldberg
Four poems from the forthcoming book Handful of Salt (The Word Works, Washington, DC, 2016).
Handful of Salt
Every day, hoping
he would leave, I poured
a handful of salt in the shoe
of the irresolute man
I once loved greatly.
I knew, so far as I could
tell, that this visitor
would kill me and my poems.
His timing was unfortunate.
Handful of Salt – Kurdish folk wisdom: place a handful of salt in the shoes of a guest who has overstayed. It is a host’s subtle signal for the guest to leave.
مشتێ خوێ………………………………………………………..
مشتێ خوێم ئهكرده كهوشی………………………………………………………..
گومانی ئهو بێ عهقڵهوهی………………………………………………………..
كه زۆرم خۆشئهویست………………………………………………………..
بهو ئومێدهی زوو بڕوات………………………………………………………..
لهبهرئهوهی………………………………………………………..
دهمزانی ئهو………………………………………………………..
میوانێكی ههتابڵێی………………………………………………………..
ناوهختی عومرمهو ………………………………………………………..
خۆمو شیعرهكانم ئهكوژێت………………………………………………………..
A Small One, Sadly, Grows Up
As a small one I hid myself
under the leaves of the rubber tree.
I was that small.
On the top step, the highest,
I sat estranged. In secret,
a book read me and I read
a book. My cheeks blushed
from shyness. Each evening,
poetry wrote me. I got bigger.
The rubber tree hid itself in me.
On the highest step, I still
wait, estranged. A book
reads me and I read a book.
Now, as then, shyness grips me
when a poem writes me,
when I write a poem.
Fate is a curse that will never let me
return to my small self, the beautiful
self that is gone.
They call it growing up. You,
my eyes, do you know? In the past
I had no season that was not
vibrant. I chased garden frogs
on my knees. I thought
the world was made up
of the secret life of frogs,
their confessions. Now
I have no time to chase
fantasies. Who is more ignorant
than the man with no time to sink
to his knees and chase frogs, immersed
as he is in global trade?
How simple are the dreams of water
where it begins:
a village girl with a jar on her shoulders
understands them.
Not once a year do I dream.
I am jealous of water –
also of the jar –
also of the village girl.
What kind of Tuni Baba is this city?
When we were children
we played hide-and-seek
with them, these boys
who now have guards, beat their wives,
are thieves, murderers, martyrs.
Of some I have no news. Some
don’t allow their children to play
hide-and-seek on the street
like we did.
You see?
Do you see, my eyes,
what a curse it is to grow up?
بچوكی ههیف گهورهبوو………………………………………………………..
جاران لهژێر گهڵایهكی………………………………………………………..
درهختی مهطاطا خۆم ئهشاردهوه………………………………………………………..
ئهوهنده بچووك بووم………………………………………………………..
لهسهر دواین پلیكانهی………………………………………………………..
دوور و درێژی دوای دواوه………………………………………………………..
كتێب منی ئهخوێندهوه و………………………………………………………..
من كتێبم ئهخوێندهوه………………………………………………………..
ڕوومهتم سوور ههڵئهگهڕا………………………………………………………..
ئێواران شیعر ئهینووسیم………………………………………………………..
غهریبانه دائهنیشتم………………………………………………………..
بهدزییهوه………………………………………………………..
كهبهدهم تای شهرمێكی زۆر گهرمهوه………………………………………………………..
داری مهطاطا لهپاڵما خۆی حهشارئهدات………………………………………………………..
لهسهر یهكهم پلیكانهی سهرهوه………………………………………………………..
ئێی…گهوره بووم………………………………………………………..
ههر غاریبانه وهستاوم و………………………………………………………..
ههر كتێب ئهمخوێنێتهوه و………………………………………………………..
.ههر كتێبیش ئهخوێنمهوه………………………………………………………..
ئێستایش ههر شهرم دامئهگرێ………………………………………………………..
.پێی ئهڵێن گهوره بوون………………………………………………………..
كهشیعر ئهنووسم………………………………………………………..
چاوهكهم ئهزانی؟………………………………………………………..
وهرزی گریانی ئاسمان بهتهنیا زستانه………………………………………………………..
وهرزی گریانی گهڵاكان بهتهنیا پایزه………………………………………………………..
وهرزی گریانی جهستهكان بهتهنیا هاوینه………………………………………………………..
وهرزی گریانی عاشقیش بهتهنیا ههر بههارانه………………………………………………………..
گریانی شیعرهكانی من………………………………………………………..
.بههار و هاوین و پایز و زستانه………………………………………………………..
جاران هیچ وهرزێكم نهبوو………………………………………………………..
كهچی وهرزی………………………………………………………..
چاوهكهم ئهزانی؟………………………………………………………..
لهپهراوێزی وهرزه كاڵهوه بووهكانا………………………………………………………..
لهسهر ئهژنۆ بهدوای بۆقی باخچهكانا………………………………………………………..
ئینجاباشه، كێ لهوكهسه نهزانتره………………………………………………………..
خهونهكانی كانییهك چهنده ساكارن………………………………………………………..
دنیا بریتییه لهدرك پێكردنی………………………………………………………..
بۆ رۆشتن بهدوای خهیاڵا………………………………………………………..
كه نوقمی جیهانگیرییه و………………………………………………………..
بوارنییه لهسهر ئاژبۆ………………………………………………………..
.بهدوای نهێنی نێو ناخیدا ڕابكا………………………………………………………..
كچێكی گۆزه بهشانی گوندنشین………………………………………………………..
كهچی من ساڵی جارێكیش………………………………………………………..
.خهونێكی ساده یان ئاڵۆز نابینم………………………………………………………..
ئیرهیی بهكانی ئهبهم………………………………………………………..
…ئهڕۆیشتم………………………………………………………..
وامئهزانی………………………………………………………..
.نحێنیی ژیانی بۆقێك………………………………………………………..
ئێستا هیچ كاتێكم نییه………………………………………………………..
لێیان تێئهگات………………………………………………………..
ههروهها بهگۆزه………………………………………………………..
ههروهها بهكچی لادێ-یش………………………………………………………..
.شارچتوونی بابایهكه………………………………………………………..
…كهمناڵبووی………………………………………………………..
لهگهڵ ئهو كوڕانه چاوشار كێمان ئهكرد………………………………………………………..
ئێستا ههندێكیان پاسهوانیان لهگهڵه………………………………………………………..
ههیانه رۆژانه لهژنهكهی ئهدات………………………………………………………..
تیاشیاندایه جهردهیه، پیاوكوژه………………………………………………………..
.وهكو خۆی چاوشار كێ بكهن………………………………………………………..
ههیانه شههیدبوون………………………………………………………..
ههواڵی ههندێكیان نازانم………………………………………………………..
ههشیانه ناهێڵێ………………………………………………………..
مناڵهكانی لهكۆڵان………………………………………………………..
ئهبینی چاوهكهم………………………………………………………..
گهوره بوون چ بهڵایهكه؟………………………………………………………..
ئهبینی؟………………………………………………………..
Ah, You Don’t See Me
The other world through the window
of my current life is olive trees
and fog as far as the eyes can see.
Sadly, you don’t see me, even
when I sweep olives from the trees
in autumn, even after I wash
them with exile,
sprinkle them with lemon water
and rock salt, season
them with my pain and journey,
even when I place those olives
in a clean, translucent jar
you don’t see me. My hands break.
You don’t see how, with the trees,
I go bare and blossom,
blossom and go bare.
When I become a bird,
and grow wings, I will
either fall from above, or
fly from below.
Ah, you don’t know:
with a lover as ruthless
as my homeland
I live untouched.
Like a cactus
I grow thorns
from heartbreak.
داخهكهم نامبینیت………………………………………………………..
رنیای ئهو ریوو………………………………………………………..
پهنجهری ژیانی ئێستام………………………………………………………..
.تا چاوبڕكات ههر داری زهیتون وتهمه………………………………………………………..
مهخابن نامبینیت………………………………………………………..
دوای شتنهوهی به ئهشكی خهریبیم………………………………………………………..
ئینجا خوێی زبری سفرهری پیادهكهم و………………………………………………………..
لهشووشهیهكی رووناك و بێڕتووشی وهكو دڵا………………………………………………………..
كاتێ زهیتون دهتهكێنم لهپایدا و………………………………………………………..
ئاوی لیمۆی نازارمی لێدهپرژێنم………………………………………………………..
دهستی شكاوم نامبینن………………………………………………………..
چۆن لهگهڵ درهختهكانا………………………………………………………..
دهوهرێم و گوڵده گرم………………………………………………………..
یان گوڵده گرم و دهوهرێم………………………………………………………..
كه لهگهڵ باڵندهكانا………………………………………………………..
لهدایك دهبم و باڵدهگرم………………………………………………………..
.لهبهرزاییهوه دهكهوم یان لهنزماییهوه دهفڕم………………………………………………………..
داخهكهم نازانیت………………………………………………………..
كه لهگهڵ یادییارێكی………………………………………………………..
دڵڕهقی وهك نهشتمانا………………………………………………………..
چهند عیسامییانه دهژیم و………………………………………………………..
وهكو سوبێری بیابان………………………………………………………..
.چۆن دڕكی دڵشكان دهگرم………………………………………………………..
A Single Strand of Hair
A single strand of hair falls
on my forehead. I don’t,
as my mother did, kiss it,
touch it to my eye and
smooth it back.
Each time, I pluck
the strand from the root
and press it
in an old book.
I don’t want anyone
to miss me
except the old heroes.
I don’t want
any darling apart
from pen, page, line.
Single Strand – Kurdish folk wisdom: when a single strand of hair falls into your face, kiss it and touch it to your eyes. Then, you will see the one you love.
تهنیا تاڵێك………………………………………………………..
تاڵێ له قژم جیابۆوه………………………………………………………..
ماچم نهكردو نهمخسته………………………………………………………..
تاڵهكه رائهكێشمو………………………………………………………..
لهناو كتێبێكی كۆندا………………………………………………………..
لهبهرئهوهی نامهوێت كهس………………………………………………………..
پاڵهوانی كتێبه كۆنهكان نهبێت………………………………………………………..
ههروهها نامهوێت………………………………………………………..
ئازیزێكی ترببینم………………………………………………………..
قهڵهمو لاپهڕهو دێڕنهبێت………………………………………………………..
من وهك دایكم………………………………………………………..
سهرچاوانم………………………………………………………..
ههمووجارێ………………………………………………………..
دایئهنێم………………………………………………………..
بیرم بكات………………………………………………………..
Sherko Bekas
Translated by Aro Latif Omar and Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse
Murmuring to Himself
It was evening as little Hama the shoe-polisher
let his weary head hang low
in a corner of the vast square
in the heart of Damascus
sitting on his little chair
over one shoe after another.
Like the brush in his hand,
his worn out body trembled.
Homeless little Hama,
murmuring to himself,
would say,
“You, Merchant, place your foot here.
You, Teacher, place your foot here.
You, Lawyer, place your foot here.
The officer, the commander, the traitor, the murderer,
good boys and useless boys,
all of you, one after another,
place your feet here.
No one’s left
except God.
In Heaven, I am certain
He will send for a Kurd
to polish his shoes.
That Kurd might just be me.
Oh, dear Mother,
I wonder how big God’s shoes might be.
What size does He wear?
Oh, dear Mother,
what might He pay?
I wonder how much money He would pay.
حهمه بچكۆلی بۆیاخچی………………………………………………………..
سهری ماندوی داخستبو………………………………………………………..
لهسوچێكی گۆڕهپانه گهورهكهدا………………………………………………………..
لهناوهندی دڵی شاما………………………………………………………..
لهسهر كورسێ نزمهكهی خۆی دانیشتبو………………………………………………………..
پهیتا پهیتا………………………………………………………..
وهكو فڵچهی نێوان دهستی………………………………………………………..
جهستهی لهڕی ڕائهژهنی………………………………………………………..
حهمه بچكۆلی ئاواره………………………………………………………..
لهبهر خۆوه بهورته ورت………………………………………………………..
تۆ بازرگان قاچت دانێ………………………………………………………..
تۆ مامۆستا قاچت دانێ………………………………………………………..
تۆ پارێزهر قاچت دانێ………………………………………………………..
….ئهمهی ئهوت………………………………………………………..
ئهفسهر………………………………………………………..
سهرباز………………………………………………………..
جاسوس………………………………………………………..
جهلاد………………………………………………………..
كوڕی باش و ههرچو پهرچی………………………………………………………..
ههرههموتان یهك لهدوای یهك قاچتان دانێن………………………………………………………..
كهس نهماوه………………………………………………………..
ههر خوا ماوه………………………………………………………..
لهو دنیا دڵنیام ئهویش ئهنێرێ بهشوێن كوردێكا………………………………………………………..
پێڵاوهكهی بۆ بۆیاخكا………………………………………………………..
ڕهنگه ئهو كوردهش ههر منبم………………………………………………………..
ئای دایه گیان………………………………………………………..
ئهوه ئهبێ پێڵاوی خوا چهن گهورهبێ………………………………………………………..
ژماره چهن لهپێ بكا………………………………………………………..
ئهی بۆ پاره خوا چهن ئهدا………………………………………………………..
ئهبێ چهن با………………………………………………………..
Abdualla Pashew
Translated by Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse and Abdualla Pashew
A Winter Image
Tonight, I touched
the dictionary of midnight.
Its words ran from me
like ants.
The child I saw this evening,
shaded by the mosque’s wall,
cloaked in hunger, a scarecrow
who attacked God,
is my guest tonight.
He has made a bed of my ceiling,
wiping the stars
from the sky with his fragile fingers,
blocking the roof’s window,
keeping the loose hair of the moon
from tumbling down.
My little guest,
why do you strike out?
What do you want from me?
Come down!
At dawn,
I will unwind the knotted way,
I will break the coffer of the skyline
and fetch for you
the golden loaf.
Come down.
Do not slaughter the stars,
do not slam the roof’s window.
Be patient.
I will set fire to the slogans on the city’s arches,
I will set fire to the fingers of cowardly poets
and the thrones of the city’s terrible mansions.
At dawn,
I won’t forget.
I will unwind the knotted way,
I will break the coffer of the skyline
and fetch for you
the golden loaf.
Come down.
Do not slaughter the stars,
Do not slam the roof’s window,
my little guest,
come down.
بۆ فهرههنگی نیوهشهو برد………………………………………………………..
تابلۆیهكی زستانی………………………………………………………..
ئهمشهو دهستم………………………………………………………..
وشهكانی مێرووله بوون،………………………………………………………..
.له بهردهمما ڕایان دهكرد………………………………………………………..
ئهو مناڵهی ئێوارێ دیم،………………………………………………………..
له سێبهری مزگهوتێكا………………………………………………………..
-داوهڵی خوای خۆی دهپێكا………………………………………………………..
ئهمشهو لای من مێوانێكه،………………………………………………………..
به ئهنگوسته لاوازهكان………………………………………………………..
ئهستێرهكان دهسڕێتهوه،………………………………………………………..
برسێتیی له خۆی لوول دابوو،………………………………………………………..
.له بنمیچی ژوورهكهمدا ڕاكشاوه………………………………………………………..
بهری كڵاوڕۆژنهی گرتووم،………………………………………………………..
.بۆ بسكۆڵهی كراوهی مانگ بكرێتهوه………………………………………………………..
لێ ناگهڕێ………………………………………………………..
!ئهی مێوانه بچكۆڵهكهم………………………………………………………..
بۆ مان دهگریت؟………………………………………………………..
چیت لێم دهوێ؟………………………………………………………..
!وهره خوارێ………………………………………………………..
بهیانی زوو………………………………………………………..
كڵافهی ڕێ دهكهمهوه،………………………………………………………..
قاسهی ئاسۆت بۆ دهشكێنم،………………………………………………………..
.كولێرهی زێڕ دهردەهێنم………………………………………………………..
!وهره خوارێ………………………………………………………..
.سهری ئهستێرهكان مهبڕه………………………………………………………..
لێفهی ئهییووب به خۆتدا ده،………………………………………………………..
تا درووشمی سهر تاقهكان دهسووتێنم؛………………………………………………………..
چیلكهی پهنجهی ترسنۆكی شاعیرهكان،………………………………………………………..
.ژووری كۆشكه سامناكهكان دهسووتێنم………………………………………………………..
.بهری كڵاوڕۆژنه مهگره………………………………………………………..
كورسی و مێزی………………………………………………………..
بهیانیش زوو،………………………………………………………..
لهبیر ناكەم،………………………………………………………..
كڵافهی ڕێ دهكهمهوه،………………………………………………………..
قاسهی ئاسۆت بۆ دهشكێنم،………………………………………………………..
.كولێرهی زێڕ دهردههێنم………………………………………………………..
!وهره خوارێ………………………………………………………..
سهری ئهستێرهكان مهبڕه،………………………………………………………..
.بهری كڵاوڕۆژنه مهگره………………………………………………………..
ئهی مێوانه بچكۆڵهكهم،………………………………………………………..
!وهره خوارێ………………………………………………………..
The Unknown Soldier
When a delegate visits a foreign country
He brings a crown of flowers
For the grave of the unknown soldier.
If tomorrow
A delegate came to my country
And asked me,
Where is the grave of the unknown soldier?
I would say:
Sir,
At the bank of each stream,
Under the cupola of each mosque,
At the threshold of each house,
Each church,
Each cave,
Under every mountain’s boulders,
Under every garden’s branches.
In this country,
Over any fist of earth,
Under any shred of sky,
Don’t be afraid, bow your head
And set down your crown of flowers.
سهربازی ون………………………………………………………..
كه وهفدێ شوێنێ،………………………………………………………..
بۆ سهر گۆڕی سهربازی ون،………………………………………………………..
.تاجهگوڵینهیهك دێنێ………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………..
وهفدێك بێته وڵاتی من،………………………………………………………..
ئهگهر سبهی………………………………………………………..
:لێم بپرسێ………………………………………………………..
« كوانێ گۆڕی سهربازی ون؟»………………………………………………………..
:دهڵێم………………………………………………………..
!گهورهم………………………………………………………..
له كهناری ههر جۆگهیێ،………………………………………………………..
لهسهر سهكۆی ههر مزگهوتێ،………………………………………………………..
ههر ماڵێ، ههر كڵێسهیێ، ههر ئهشكهوتێ،………………………………………………………..
لهسهر درهختی ههر باخێ،………………………………………………………..
له بهردهرگهی………………………………………………………..
لهسهر گابهردی ههر شاخێ،………………………………………………………..
:لهم وڵاته………………………………………………………..
لهسهر ههر بسته زهمینێ،………………………………………………………..
لهژێر ههر گهزه ئاسمانێ،………………………………………………………..
مهترسه، كهمێك سهر داخه و………………………………………………………..
!تاجهگوڵینهكهت دانێ………………………………………………………..
For Hundreds of Years
For hundreds of years,
my own house in ruins,
I have served like a blind cat in the corners of the Sultan’s kitchen.
For hundreds of years,
my own gate unguarded,
I have stood sentry at the thieves’ door.
For hundreds of years:
one day, I am
a stable boy for the Governor of Baghdad,
another, textiles in Tehran,
another, sackcloth
to scour the Sultana’s hips,
and yet another, a broom to sweep Damascus clean.
For hundreds of years,
like a handful of grain,
the mill of history ground me down.
Anthills appeared all around me,
ants swarmed over me.
For hundreds of years,
my cranium has been a minaret:
open to any loud mouth.
For hundreds of years,
my homeland has been a nargila
for anyone to put between their two teeth and sip at.
For hundreds of years,
in front of the world’s gate
I have been a pair of patched sandals.
I have fit any foot.
For hundreds of years,
torn, they threw me away.
For hundreds of years,
patched, they wore me yet again.
I am a wounded back:
I rose against the whip.
I am a reckless flood:
I rise against shores
that have become confining.
I don’t pool,
I don’t rest.
I am on edge.
My tranquility was a light:
a hurricane snuffed it out.
I am no longer mercy.
My mercy was an ocean.
They put their mouths to it and they drank it down.
I don’t pool,
I don’t rest.
When I am a single grain, what chance do I have?
…………It’s me or the ant.
When I am a drop of blood, what chance do I have?
…………It’s me or the leech.
Only a whore would say
the grain and the ant are brothers.
Only a whore would say
blood and the leech are brothers,
the fish and the spear,
the mouse and the saddlebag.
The hand and the stinger are brothers,
the whores say,
the rope and the neck,
the razor and the hair.
Come, people,
ask prey, ask pain,
ask, for God’s sake,
does a dagger exist that heals the wound?
Is there a hunter who doesn’t devour his prey?
Oh, people, ask the hay,
has it seen a cold fire?
Ask the bird,
has a snake ever jutted his jaw into the nest
intending to kiss?
Come on, ask the oak,
has it seen an axe that doesn’t cut wood?
Come on, ask the donkey,
has it seen a wolf that won’t tear him apart?
The whores say
there is a snake with sweet poison.
The whores say
there is an axe who is brother to the woods.
I am a wounded back:
I rose against the whip.
I am a reckless flood:
I rise against shores
that have become confining.
I don’t pool,
I don’t rest.
I am on edge.
My tranquility was a light:
a hurricane snuffed it out.
I am no longer mercy.
My mercy was an ocean.
They put their mouths to it and they drank it down.
كتكهكۆرهی گۆشهی متبهقی سوڵتانم.………………………………………………………..
حهوشوبهرهی خۆم واڵایه و………………………………………………………..
.له بهردهرگهی دزانی خۆم پاسهوانم………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
له وێرانهماڵی خۆمدا،………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
ڕۆژێك دهبم………………………………………………………..
.به مهیتهری والیی بهغدا………………………………………………………..
.ڕۆژێك له تاران كوتاڵم………………………………………………………..
ڕۆژێك لیفكهم………………………………………………………..
پشتی ژنی سوڵتان دهشۆم،………………………………………………………..
!ڕۆژێك گهسكم شام دهماڵم………………………………………………………..
ههرچوار دهورم شارۆچكهیه و………………………………………………………..
.كێ بێ، دهنگی تیا ههڵدهبڕێ………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
وهكوو چنگێك دانهوێڵه،………………………………………………………..
.ئاشی مێژوو فڕێی داوم………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………..
.مێرووله دهمیان تێ ناوم………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
كاسهسهرم – منارهیه،………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
نیشتمانم – نێرگهلهیه،………………………………………………………..
.كێ بێ، به دهمییهوهی دهگرێ………………………………………………………..
……………………………………………………………
له بهردهرگهی تهكیهی جیهان،………………………………………………………..
.كێ له پێم كا بۆ ئهو دهشێم………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
جووتێك سۆلی پینهپینهم،………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
.دوای تڵیشێك فڕێ دهدرێم………………………………………………………..
سهدان ساڵه،………………………………………………………..
.دوای پینهیهك له پێ دهكرێم………………………………………………………..
له قامچیی خۆم ڕاپهڕیوم………………………………………………………..
من پشتێكی بریندارم،………………………………………………………..
من لافاوێكی لاسارم،………………………………………………………..
لهو كهنارانه ههڵساوم………………………………………………………..
.كه تهنگیان پێ ههڵچنیوم………………………………………………………..
.نانیشمهوه………………………………………………………..
.نانوومهوه………………………………………………………..
.بێئارامم………………………………………………………..
ئارامی من چرایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
.ڕهشهبای دهورم خوێنی ڕشت………………………………………………………..
بهزهییی من زهریایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
.بینیان پێوەنا و ههڵیان مشت………………………………………………………..
.بێبهزهییم………………………………………………………..
.نانیشمهوه………………………………………………………..
.نانوومهوه………………………………………………………..
كه من دان بم، كوا دهرفهت؟………………………………………………………..
.یا من یا مێروو…………..………………………………………………………..
كه من خوێن بم، كوا دهرفهت؟………………………………………………………..
.یا من یا زێروو………….………………………………………………………..
:قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن………………………………………………………..
.دان و مێروو برای یهكن………………………………………………………..
قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن،………………………………………………………..
.خوێن و زێروو برای یهكن………………………………………………………..
قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن،………………………………………………………..
ماسی و چهنگاڵ،………………………………………………………..
مشك و جهواڵ،………………………………………………………..
.دهست و چزوو برای یهكن………………………………………………………..
قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن،………………………………………………………..
.گوێزان و موو برای یهكن………………………………………………………..
پهت و گهردن،………………………………………………………..
………………………………………………………..
له نێچیر و زام بپرسن،………………………………………………………..
خهنجهر ههیه زام تیمار كا؟………………………………………………………..
ڕاوچی ههیه نێچیر نهخوا؟!………………………………………………………..
ده خهڵكه، له كا بپرسن،………………………………………………………..
قهت ئاگری ساردی دیوه؟………………………………………………………..
له هێلانهی مهل بپرسن،………………………………………………………..
قهت مار دهمی تێ ژهنیوه؟!………………………………………………………..
دە له داربهڕوو بپرسن،………………………………………………………..
تهوری دیوه داربڕ نهبێ؟………………………………………………………..
ده له كهرێكیش بپرسن،………………………………………………………..
!گورگی دیوه كهردڕ نهبێ؟………………………………………………………..
قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن،………………………………………………………..
.ماری شیرینژاریش ههیه………………………………………………………..
قهحپهن ئهوانهی پێم دهڵێن،………………………………………………………..
!تهوری برای داریش ههیه………………………………………………………..
من پشتێكی بریندارم،………………………………………………………..
.له قامچیی خۆم ڕاپهڕیوم………………………………………………………..
من لافاوێكی لاسارم،………………………………………………………..
لهو كهنارانه ههڵساوم………………………………………………………..
.كه تهنگیان پێ ههڵچنیوم………………………………………………………..
وهرن، خهڵكه،………………………………………………………..
بڵێن، توخوا،………………………………………………………..
به نیازی ماچ،………………………………………………………..
.نانیشمهوه………………………………………………………..
نانوومهوه.………………………………………………………..
.بێئارامم………………………………………………………..
ئارامی من چرایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
ڕهشهبای دهورم خوێنی ڕشت.………………………………………………………..
.بێبهزهییم………………………………………………………..
بهزهییی من زهریایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
!بینیان پێوەنا و ههڵیان مشت………………………………………………………..
Comparison
It was midnight.
Nature was still, the world insensate.
You slept,
your cheek on the back of your hand.
I observed you.
A breeze of wallflowers lifted me up.
An eternal melody unsettled me.
I closed the book in my hands,
freed myself from its confinement,
and began to read your sacred face,
gently, gently,
verse by verse,
until day broke.
The word for “verse” used here, ayat, is not for poems, but for verses of the Qu’ran.
تهوری برای داریش ههیه………………………………………………………..
.من پشتێكی بریندارم،………………………………………………………..
.له قامچیی خۆم ڕاپهڕیوم………………………………………………………..
من لافاوێكی لاسارم،………………………………………………………..
.لهو كهنارانه ههڵساوم………………………………………………………..
.كه تهنگیان پێ ههڵچنیوم………………………………………………………..
.نانیشمهوه………………………………………………………..
.نانوومهوه………………………………………………………..
.بێئارامم………………………………………………………..
ئارامی من چرایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
.ڕهشهبای دهورم خوێنی ڕشت………………………………………………………..
بهزهییی من زهریایهك بوو،………………………………………………………..
بینیان پێوەنا و ههڵیان مشت………………………………………………………..
.بێبهزهییم………………………………………………………..
Dlawar Qaradaghi
Translated by Pshtewan Kamal Babakir and Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse
That Village
In that village,
the sun rises from the west
and sets in the east.
In that village,
fate is a wheat-colored man
who whistles in the afternoon
as he passes beneath
the pomegranate trees’ shadow.
In that village,
in every footprint words have grown.
On every leaf’s surface
birdsong’s lantern has been kindled.
People of that village
don’t listen to the news
or scan the headlines of the daily newspapers.
Even in their elections, they vote
for the moderates among the mourning doves.
People of that village
know nothing of multiplication, division, and subtraction,
but by their breath
they count and celebrate
the blooming qarsilli flowers.
By their nose, they find winterweed.
People of that village,
when they become guests of an earthquake—
insignificant or of great magnitude—
fill their pockets with shadow, cloud
and sun light.
On their return
they bring the embrace of the stars.
People of that village
enter the house saying hello
and leave the house saying hello.
In that village,
at night stars become water
and drop into the russet mouth of laughter.
In that village,
the soft migrant winds
obliterate themselves in moonlight,
in the embrace of the bareza,
which breathes and grows
and is green.
In that village,
sin is not shy—
it runs naked for pleasure—
but truth is too shy to watch,
through the door, across the threshold,
in the doubt’s undress.
Thirst is too shy to listen
to the sodden chirping of love.
In that village,
fish at first sight
fall in love with depth.
They return on their toes,
guided by lines of horror and beauty,
sunk & breathless, they return.
In that village,
nobody watches the flight of birds.
For instance:
no spring says to poetry,
Where were you today?
In that village,
I know a gardener
whose face looks like a cloud,
hands like the dawn.
When he sleeps,
he becomes rosy and more rosy.
When he walks,
trees, butterflies, and poems
of this life come to see him.
In that village,
I have become a friend to a mirror
who, for a period of time,
saw itself in the ocean.
qarsilli and embareza are rare native Kurdish plants that green the hills in spring.
ئەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
خۆر لە خۆرهەڵاتەوە هەڵدێ و………………………………………………………..
لە خۆرئاواوە ئاوادەبێ………………………………………………………..
قەدەر پیاوێکە گەنم ڕەنگ………………………………………………………..
نیوەڕوان بە فیکە لێدانەوە………………………………………………………..
بە ژێر سێبەری دار هەنارەکاندا………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
ڕەت دەبێ………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە،………………………………………………………..
لە هەر جێگە پێیەکدا قسەیەک ڕوواوە………………………………………………………..
لەسەر پەلکی هەر درەختێک………………………………………………………..
چرای جریوەیەک هەڵکراوە………………………………………………………..
!نە گوێ لە هەواڵەکان دەگرن و………………………………………………………..
خەڵکی ئەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
نە لاپەڕەی یەکەمی ڕۆژنامەکان دەخوێننەوە………………………………………………………..
دەنگ بۆ کوکوختییە لیبڕاڵەکان دەدەن………………………………………………………..
هیچ لە زەڕب و دابەشکردن و لێ دەرکردن نازانن………………………………………………………..
ساڵڕۆژی بشکوتنی گوڵە قەرسیلییەکان………………………………………………………..
بە بۆن…بە پیر دیداری گوڵ ئەستێرەوە دەچن………………………………………………………..
کە دەبنە میوانی گەردەلوول………………………………………………………..
کەچی لە هەڵبژاردنا………………………………………………………..
خەڵکی ئەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
کەچی بە هەناسە………………………………………………………..
حیساب دەکەن………………………………………………………..
خەڵکی ئەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
ورد و درشت………………………………………………………..
گیرفانەکانیان پڕدەکەن لە سێبەر و هەور و………………………………………………………..
هەتاو………………………………………………………..
بە باوەشی ئەستێرەوە دێنەوە………………………………………………………..
بە سڵاو خۆیان دەکەن بە ماڵدا و………………………………………………………..
بە سڵاو لە ماڵ دەچنە دەر………………………………………………………..
شەوانە ئەستێرەکان دەبنە ئاو………………………………………………………..
دەتکێنە زاری نوقڵینی پێکەنینەوە………………………………………………………..
کەچی لە سەرەوە………………………………………………………..
خەڵکی ئەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە،………………………………………………………..
لە ئامێزی تریفەدا خۆیان دەکوژن………………………………………………………..
هەناسە دەدەن و دەڕوێن و………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
شنەبا کۆچەرەکان………………………………………………………..
لە ئامێزی باڕێزەدا………………………………………………………..
سەوز دەبن………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
گوناه پێی شوورەیی نییە………………………………………………………..
ڕووت و قووت بەدوای ئارەزوودا ڕاکات………………………………………………………..
کەچی حەقیقەت پێی شەرمە………………………………………………………..
خۆ ڕووتکردنەوەی گومان کات………………………………………………………..
گوێ بۆ چرپەی تەڕ و بڕی خۆشەویستی………………………………………………………..
لە کونی دەرگاوە تەماشای………………………………………………………..
کەچی تینوێتی پێی شەرمە………………………………………………………..
هەڵخات………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
ماسییەکان هەر لە یەکەمین بینینەوە………………………………………………………..
لەو سەرەوە لەسەر نووکی پێ………………………………………………………..
بە هێڵە خەتەرناک و خۆشەکانی………………………………………………………..
خنکان و تەنگەنەفەسبووندا دێنەوە………………………………………………………..
کەس تاقیبی فڕینی پاسارییەکان ناکا………………………………………………………..
هیچ کانییەک بە شیعرێک ناڵێ………………………………………………………..
عاشقی قووڵایی دەبن………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
:بۆ نموونە………………………………………………………..
ئەمڕۆ لە کوێ بوویت؟………………………………………………………..
باخەوانێک دەناسم………………………………………………………..
سیمای لە هەور و………………………………………………………..
دەستەکانیشی لە گزنگ………………………………………………………..
پەمەیی…پەمەیی دەچێتەوە………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
:کە دەنوێ………………………………………………………..
:کە دەڕوا………………………………………………………..
درەخت و پەپوولە و شیعری………………………………………………………..
ئەو دونیایەی دێنە سەیر………………………………………………………..
بوومەتە هاوڕێی ئاوێنەیەک………………………………………………………..
لەو گوندە………………………………………………………..
عومرێکە………………………………………………………..
!خۆی لە زەریادا تەماشا دەکا………………………………………………………..
Translating from Kurdish
Over a hundred years, as other ethnicities have been able to codify their languages, create dictionaries, thesauruses, and grammars, Kurds have routinely been banned from speaking their language, forcibly relocated, and for Iraqi Kurds, Arabized. Within the relative protection of the semi-autonomous zone of the Kurdish Regional Government (KRG), linguistic freedom has blossomed, bringing with it a new wave of reference texts. That said, these texts are still in the early stages and none are definitive. Many older or more rare words poets use cannot be found in dictionaries and must be scouted out in conversation with experts in the language or older speakers who might still be familiar with almost-antiquated usage. This makes translation of Kurdish poetry a highly social pursuit.
Most of the co-translators I worked with on this selection were, at one point, students of mine at the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani (AUIS). Darya Ali and Mewan Nahro enrolled in a translation workshop I taught and continued on with me after the semester’s conclusion. The three of us, all holding down full-time responsibilities, met to translate together in the evenings and weekends. Aro Latif signed up to help me put on a reading with Sherko Bekas, not a year before the poet passed away. Pshtewan Kamal asked if we could host a reading with Dlawar Qaradaghi. Together, we selected poems and translated them, reading beside him just last year. Kajal Ahmad, Dlawar’s great friend, was seated in the front row. These young people, who have now grown far beyond their role as students, live at the height of cultural fluency and work selflessly to interpret their culture for a more global readership.
Abdulla Pashew is the only Kurdish poet whose fluency in English allows him to act as a co-translator of his own verse. Fluent as he is in Russian, he will sometimes turn to a Russian dictionary to explain a Kurdish word. That is a humbling experience.
Each co-translator has taught me about Kurdish as a language – its patterns and conventions, its embedded references, the literary pillars it rises from. The lineage of influence from Persian, Arabic, and Kurdish writings that each poet embodies is too deep and complex to discuss quickly, but a couple of the patterns are a bit easier to dissect.
Every poet represented here plays with the ambiguity made possible in Kurdish by the way it structures adjectives. Attributes, time, possession, location, and relationship can all be heaped on top of each other in word-piles: “the year of the genocide of the descendants of butterflies.” In Kurdish, all one has to do is add “y” to the end of each word. Prepositions used that way in English would be cumbersome.
As well, phrases traditional to Kurdish are highly tactile, rarely abstract. The most common greeting in Iraqi Kurdistan is “Serchow,” or, “Above my eyes.” In Kurdish, one doesn’t say, “You disappoint me.” One says, “You’re breaking my hands.” Forgiveness becomes the physical gesture of loosing someone’s neck from your strangling hands. One is not killed, but loses his head. One doesn’t know God; one has seen his armpits. The poet isn’t full or overflowing with images and ideas. She has lips within lips. Children, when beloved, are “my tilted liver.” These phrases create a world that happens in the body, to the body. For Ahmad, as a woman, that world is both intimate and threatening. For all, men and women alike, the body is vulnerable and enduring.
Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse
Sulaimani, Iraq
© Kajal Ahmad, Sherko Bekas, Abdulla Pashew, Dlawar Qaradaghi, poets; Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse, Pshtewan Kamal Babakir, Barbara Goldberg, Darya Abdul-Karim Ali Najm, Aro Latif Omar, Mewan Nahro Said Sofi, translators
Kajal Ahmad (b. 1967) came of age as one of Iraqi Kurdistan’s leading feminists. As a young woman, she began writing poetry and working as a journalist. During the Kurdish Uprising (1991) and the Kurdish Civil War (1994-1997), she served as a correspondent from the front lines, a member of the peshmerga, Kurdish guerrilla forces. Ahmad went on to work for over a decade as the Editor-in-Chief of Kurdistani New and at times she has worked as a TV host for KurdSat. Ms. Ahmad has published four books: Benderî Bermoda (1999), Wutekanî Wutin (1999), Qaweyek le gel ev da (2001), and Awênem şikand (2004).
Sherko Bekas (1940-2013) published more than twenty books over the course of his lifetime and served as the founding chair for Sardam, a major publishing house in Iraqi Kurdistan. In his twenties, he joined the peshmerga, fought the Baathist regime, and was a staff member at the Voice of Kurdistan, the radio station of the Kurdish liberation movement. Under severe political pressure, he sought asylum in Sweden from 1987-1992. His many poems have been translated into Arabic, Swedish, Danish, Dutch, Italian, French, and English.
Abdulla Pashew (b. 1946) completed his graduate work, a Masters in Pedagogy and a Doctorate in Philology, in Moscow and began his academic career as a professor in Tripoli. Fluent in Kurdish, Russian, and English, he is also a prolific translator who has brought Whitman and Pushkin to Kurdish audiences. Arguably the most popular living Kurdish poet, he draws audiences in the thousands when he reads publicly. Each of his eight collections of poetry has been so sought after that bootleg copies proliferate. Pashew is a co-translator on the four selected poems.
Dlawar Qaradaghi (b. 1963) studied drama at the Institute of Fine Arts in Baghdad. He has published nine collections of poetry and a book-length poem, “Color of Dust,” in collaboration with Kurdish poet, Nazand Begokhani. His collected poems were published in two volumes entitled Jaddey Mekhek (Clove Road). He has translated various novels, biographies and plays from Arabic, Persian, and Swedish into Kurdish, including three of Nikos Kazantzakis’ novels, Ingmar Bergman’s “Magic Lantern,” Larsh Noren and Maurice Maeterlinck’s plays and Bohumil Hrabals’ “Too Loud a Solitude.”
The Translators
Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse served as the founding Chair of the English Department at the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani (AUIS), where she taught for four years. She received her MFA at Warren Wilson and an MEd from the University of Virginia. Translations and essays have appeared in The Iowa Review, Words Without Borders, Poetry Society of America, and the anthology: SoJust. Handful of Salt, a new book of translations of Kajal Ahmad’s poetry is due in March 2016 from The Word Works. She is currently a Research Fellow at AUIS’ Institute for Regional and International Studies (IRIS) and a PhD candidate at the University of Exeter’s Centre for Kurdish Studies. She is the lead translator for all the featured poems.
Pshtewan Kamal Babakir is the Manager of Cinema at Sulyon, the first cultural website in Kurdistan. Since 2008, he has been a member of the Sebar Theater Group, which has performed in Sulaimani University and in the city streets. He has directed two documentaries for KNN, a regional television channel and has acted in a documentary on a theatrical adaptation of Sherko Bekas’ book-length poem “Now A Girl Is My Homeland.” In 2014, he received honorable mention as a poet in his own right when he entered the Sulaimani Poets’ Game. He will graduate from the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani in December of 2016 with a Major in IT and Web Development and a Minor in English Literature. Pshtewan is a co-translator on “That Village.”
Barbara Goldberg, author of five prize-winning poetry books, is also a prolific translator. Her most recent book of translations is Scorched by the Sun: Poems by Moshe Dor, Goldberg and Dor published four anthologies of contemporary Israeli poetry. She is the recipient of two fellowships from the National Endowment for the Arts and the
Armand G. Erpf Award from the Translation Center at Columbia University. She is currently Series Editor of the Word Works’ International Editions.
Darya Abdul-Karim Ali Najm graduated in 2014 from the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani, with a major in International Studies and a minor in English Literature. She is a native of Sulaimani, the city many call “the cultural capital” of the KRG. Issues of womanhood in Kurdish literature interest her greatly. Currently, she works as the Marketing Manager at Suli Media, an advertising agency. She plans to resume her studies of literature and politics.
Aro Latif Omar is a leading member of the AUIS Debate Society and the AUIS Model United Nations Club, having attended the MUN Conference in New York in March 2013. He works for the Volunteering Matters Group (VMG), a student-led organization that raises money and distributes aid to refugees through joint initiatives with UNICEF in Iraq’s Kurdish region. He has served as the President of the Student Association at the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani (AUIS) and directed the Editorials section for Awat, the first independent English newspaper in Iraq. Omar will graduate as an International Studies Major from AUIS in 2016.
Mewan Nahro Said Sofi is currently a Masters candidate in Management of Governance Networks at Erasmus University in Rotterdam. She graduated in 2015 from the American University of Iraq, Sulaimani, with a major in International Studies. She is originally from Erbil, but was born in Iran and spent most of her childhood in the Netherlands. She is an advocate for Kurdistan and women’s rights.
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