Ey Reqîb_O ENEMY (National Anthem of the Mahabad Republic¹)

Ey reqîb her mawe qewmî kurdziman,

Nayşikênê danerî topî zeman.

Kes nelê kurd mirduwe, kurd zînduw e,

Zînduw e qet nanewê alakeman.

Ême roley rengî sûr û şorriş în,

Seyrî ke, xwênawî ye rabirdûman.

Kes nelê kurd mirduwe, kurd zînduw e,

Zînduw e, qet nanewê alakeman.

Lawî kurd hestaye ser pê wek dilêr,

Ta be xwên nexşî bika tacî jiyan.

Kes nelê kurd mirduwe, kurd zînduw e,

Zînduw e, qet nanewê alakeman.

Ême roley Mîdya û Keyxusrew în,

Dînman, ayinmian, her nîştiman.

Kes nelê kurd mirduwe, kurd zînduw e,

Zînduw e, qet nanewê alakeman.

Lawî kurd her hazir u amade ye,

Giyanfîda ye, giyanfîda, her giyanfîda.

Kes nelê kurd mirduwe, kurd zînduw e,

Zînduw e, qet nanewê alakeman.

English Translation

O enemy, the Kurdish people still live.

The strokes of time have not broken them.

Courageous Kurdish youth rise up,

with their blood they have designed a living crown.

No one may say: the Kurds have disappeared!

They live! They live! We shall never lower the flag.

We come from the Medi people and from Kay Koshrow.²

Kurdistan is our religion, our creed.

We come from the red flags and the revolutions

look at our past, so much of our blood!

Nobody dare say: the Kurds have disappeared!

They live! And we shall never lower the flag.

There, Kurdish youth is ready,

ready to give their lives to the last sacrifice.

Kurdistan or death! Kurdistan or death!

Notes (as shown in the image)

---   **DILDAR  1918–1948**

1. The Republic of Mahabad: this name is used to mean the Republic of Kurdistan, founded on the 22nd January 1946 with Mahabad as its capital. Its territory included the northern part of Iranian Kurdistan. In its short life this democratic Republic, with an elected assembly, pursued important objectives both in socio-economic matters (for example, for the first time issues concerning women became political matters) and in territorial autonomy. Its demise was made possible by the surrender and territorial return by a weakened Tehran during World War Two and the temporary deception of the Shah. However, with the end of the war the Iranian army descended on Mahabad. The members of the government were rounded up and executed; the leading political spokesmen, beginning with the President – that great intellectual Qazi Mohammed – were hanged in Mahabad square.

2. Kay Koshrow: legendary king in the mythology of the Medi and therefore of the Kurds.

Gods

In the year of ’88

All the gods

Could see

The villagers’ bodies

Spitting as they burned,

But none moved.

Only to light

The cigarettes on their lips

Did they incline their heads

To those fires.

--- Sherko Bekas

translated by Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse & Halo Fariq

Translator’s note: On March 16, 1988, as part of Anfal, Saddam Hussein’s military campaign against the Kurds of Iraq, Halabja withstood a chemical-weapons attack. The largest directed against a civilian population in history, it has been recognized as an act of genocide by the Iraqi High Criminal Court

KAMISHLI¹

Writing to you from here, my friend,
what else can I tell you about
other than pain, sadness?
I would have to paint for you
a picture of us here in this city,
have to show you the face
of who is a stranger, driven out
from his very own land,
I would have to draw a country
of frontiers – spikes and guns
between mouth and mouth
between hand and hand –
borders.

Slowly the hours meander
in the darkness of streets, lanes, markets
dragging sorrow, sadness;
hours hung on the trees and the walls,
people wounded by the stabs
of bad luck.
Here, time is a machine
and the police control it.

--- FERHAD SHAKELY

¹Kamishli is a city of Kurdistan in Syria. Because of its closeness to Iraqi Kurdistan, the politically persecuted Iraqi Kurds found refuge there.

You decide

But whenever I think of myself 

you appear by my side in the form of a silence 

We swallow the light.

A rose garden, think of it, in the middle of the desert. 

You touch that place with your wound, 

The desert softens somewhat.

At that moment, right at that moment 

Like taking a copper tray, hanging it on the wall 

you think of me with fresh new eyes, love me.

 You create me anew.

Should we name this thing? You decide. 

But whenever an alarm clock goes off 

here and there in places that I cannot hear,

you become a ringing thing, 

Like a nun thinking of renewing her vows,

 you say 'Welcome' to the greatness of living.

You give form to water. 

Is this what they call surface tension? 

With a strange love you open your mouth,

might regret that some things don't work out. 

With these eyes that come from

when you first began to love me -

their depth, the burden of meaning -

With these things I say, 'Love me.

- İlhan Sami Çomak
Translated by Caroline Stockford

Qasida - Kurdêkî Koyî - Kurdish Poem

As he said that, I was so enraged I was about to lose my faith.

I said to him you have remained ignorant; I was about to punch him in the face. 

What is wrong with Kurdish? Is it not God’s creation, the language of truth? 

See, Armenian has no eloquence, and Doomsday is not going to be in Armenian, 

Yet with their limping language and crooked writing, but with books and journals, 

They are counted among the great nations, and about to call themselves a state. 

How is Kurdish different from Farsi? Why is Persian the right language and Kurdish wrong?

In fact, if you notice you would realize who has stolen from whom, 

Because we are older than they are, according to the history books of all religions.

They had this mentality, the people of Sulaymaniyah and Koye, 

That they became the masters of Persian and Arabic, some even reached Fakhre Razi’ status

--- Haji Qadiri Koyi 

*Fakhr ad-Din al-Razi was a famous Persian theologian and philosopher in the twelfth century.

Context: In a qaside “Kurdêkî Koyî” he tells the details of his encounter with a person from Koye, his hometown, who complains that Şêx Kake Ehmed translates the Quran and the prophet’s sayings (hadith) into Kurdish. Upon hearing his complaint Hacî Qadir becomes furious and comments.

Qasida: “Odeba Cake” - Kurdish Poem

Tell me what is the benefit of khanqahs, Shaikhs, and Tekyes?

Except for teaching laziness and collecting properties and wealth. 

They [shaikhs/mullahs] are not tested even once, to find out whether they are poison or opium.

To be put to the touchstone like gold, to find out whether they are bandits or leaders.

Do not follow the shaikhs and the like at all, no man can ensure daily bread to any other man.

You [shaikhs] who are busy with secrets and prayers (“naz û niyaz”), it is Europe’s technology that can work miracles. 

The peak of the Eiffel Tower touches the heavens; your journey is confined to the underworld.

They searched all the planet earth, yet your dream is just heaven. 

They take your speech today, and return it to you with no error next year. 

They add one hundred and fifty words each year to science and technology. 

The Chinese are, still, fire-worshipers, dark-faced Buddhists, and faithless pagans, 

And yet the prophet says “Seek knowledge even if it is in China”. 

There is no male or female in the hadith, if the cleric forbids knowledge [for women] he has no faith. 

You come and learn a skill, why should you care if they are pagan, Buddhist, or Jew.

You need to keep turning like a millstone, every century the patterns of living change. 

The people of paradise are not shepherds and cowboys, but owners of knowledge.


--- 

Haji Qadiri Koyi

IT WAS AFTERNOON¹

It was afternoon
the sky dressed as spring.
One moment more
and it would have conducted
the dance of death in the city.
It was afternoon.
In no hurry the children
went down the street.
Like gazelles
they came and went
in twos
in threes.
They part
they mix
happily.

It was afternoon.
Oppressive clouds of death
descend on the city
18 minutes
earthquake
fear, silence.
Bodies red with blood
reshape flowerbeds.

¹ This is from The Song of the Slaughtered City, which city is Halabja in Iraqi Kurdistan. On 16 and 17 March 1988 that city was bombed with chemical bombs by the Iraqi air force and later destroyed with dynamite.

MOUNTAINS

A prisoner condemned to life.
Chains round his ankles, handcuffs,
in a narrow jail cell.
He dreams like horsemen, the horses and the wind.
He dreams like babies, the stars and the grass.
I, too, like the prisoner,
dream every night of a strength
I bring to the mountains
and they to me.

--- Abdulla_Pashew

(About F. N. Souza mentioned in photo)

Agirê Evîndarî (The Fire of Love)

Night has completely passed, yet you lie awake here,
I cannot sleep—when will I sleep without you?
The home has turned into a prison where I suffer,
Until dawn, darkness and sorrow surround me. 

Your presence—once a single heartbeat in mine—
Oh heart, does no one compare to that one?
Why constantly does my heart return to the yearning for them?
At times I felt their hands upon my head—
So many dreams and visions came with that closeness. 

And I stayed awake, oh heart—why did the night vanish?
Did I kill them, oh heart—why did the night vanish?
Get up quickly, oh heart, bring them back,
We embraced—oh heart, why did the night vanish?

--- Cigerxwîn

Answer

After Halabja* suffocated,
I wrote a long complaint to God
Before everyone,
I read it to a tree.
The tree cried.

From one side, a bird, a postman,
Said, “All right, who will deliver it?
If you are expecting me to take it,
I won’t reach Gods throne.

Late that night,
My angelic poem, dressed for mourning,
Said, “Don’t worry.

I will take it to the heights
Of the atmosphere.
But I won’t promise

He will take the letter Himself.
You know, the Great God
Who can see Him?

I said, “Thank you. Fly.”
My angelic inspiration flew
With my complaint.

The next day, it was returned.
God’s fourth secretary down,
A man by the name of Obaid,
At the bottom

Of the very same complaint,
Wrote to me in Arabic:
“Idiot, make it Arabic.

People here don’t know Kurdish.
They won’t take it to God.”

--- Sherko Bekas

translated by Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse & Halo Fariq

*Translator’s note: On March 16, 1988, as part of Anfal, Saddam Hussein’s military campaign against the Kurds of Iraq, Halabja withstood a chemical-weapons attack. The largest directed against a civilian population in history, it has been recognized as an act of genocide by the Iraqi High Criminal Court.

Veil (1941)

I heard a girl's lament - yesterday she howled 
Like a prisoner and so passionate, it melted the heart

Such voice and shape no one has heard or seen before
she tore at the depths of the heart's old scab

She said: This veil has not only covered our face, 
Against us, no rights, forgotten names

Never have we had a day when we freely demanded our right
for our own fate, gone to the battlefield

From beginning to end, this black veil was wrong 
It became our obstacle, disabled us from entering the community of men

Pull it off, please tear it away, throw it into the furnace of fire
It's a pity that at the light of day, you drag yourselves down into the darkness of night

The oppression of these traitors, it left no just judgement
They put our sex under the spell of men's pleas

Why did our lot become a shroud, both in life and in judgement?
Here black, there white, it’s sewn unto our bodies 

Want to know, ask your elders, those who came before you
Who ever saw veil over Kurdistan's woman’s face

When did the veil become a symbol of the virtue of the tender body?
the heart is the arrow of the denier of God, who take no responsibility over faith

Tare it off, put it among you and surround it 
I hope to see it with my own eyes, with my wandering soul

Take it away please, throw it away, throw it into the furnace of fire
It is a pity that at the light of day, you drag yourselves down into the darkness of night

Let a circle gather round it, say farewell to it 
Let its name go with this April flood

Put it in a coffin, let it be carried over the shoulders of longing 
Put it in a grave, on top of the ‘Saywan’ hill

Forgive us, O God - to bury it is not right
Put it in a deep hole, over the hill of ‘Gawran’

Arrange a sad memorial, where each of you
come to his ceremony, with joy and smiling lips

Don't believe that this lament is "Nuri's" idea, nor his poem
It belongs to the girl with a beautiful voice, who said it with tears in her eyes

Take it away please, throw it away, throw it in the furnace of fire
It's a pity that the light of day, you drag yourselves into the darkness of night

--- Nuri Sheikh Salih Sheikh Ghani Barzinji

What I know of the sea

What I know of the sea is so little
yet all I want to do is swim!
Without leaning too long on reality
I'd like to view all my memories
one by one; leisurely.

I'd like to go, for example, to your dream world
where you open the window and walk 

where you rise and weave
your fingers into unkempt hair.

Rains wander your face, the gentleness of dew is in your voice.
Let each and every spring be yours!
May all mountains tire and arrive here!
Here at the place where stars have spilled you
where waters flow; the place where you say
Curl up on my lap and let birds take flight
In the place where we collected questions
such as 'what was before words?'

What I know of love is so little!
Yet I'm constantly thinking of you!

- İlhan Sami Çomak
Translated by Caroline Stockford

Part of the sorrows and suffering of Kurdish girls (1941)

The sorrow and suffering of Kurdish girls
cannot be told in a hundred stories

From the ranks of humanity, they have been driven away
lower than animals, weak and incurable

Until the age of fifteen, just like a servant 
They are forced to toil on the plains and the outdoors

Then when it is time for the demands of marriage
Quickly she is betrothed according to the terms of Sharia

Either she is conquered in exchange for much property 
Or she is captured, exchanged, woman for woman

she is given away to a filthy or old man
without opportunity, she is forced and hastily given away

her nineteenth century is pitiful 
Though in Sharia law she is said to be free

Those who so disobey 
in heart's sorrow they become mad and filled with fury

As long as they are girls, they are flawless and blameless
When married, they become subhuman

For every girl who suffers wrongdoing 
Let the responsibility lie with father and brother

Whoever marries her, again
persecutes her until the day of judgement

- Mufti Penjweni

Sweet memories (1974)

The happy day of Kurdish youth is still hidden by a heavy black cloud
until the face of the city´s daughter is hidden from the eyes

Your veil does not let your beautiful eyebrows be seen 
Alas for the filthy cloud, preventing a gaze at the moon

How can a people be free, when its girl is shackled
Is that not enough of slavery-girls and shackled to their

Your father has closed the door for you, but has no door himself
To close the door for you, is to close the door of hope

Scandalous, it's death, how will they tell you
"You may not go out”, where is the right to life? Woman

Remove your black veil, let your shining cheek be seen
For in this, the 20th century, this veiling is filled with shame

Other people's girls build atomic bombs, but you 
Only know the words like (barbecue tongs), (potholder) and
(breadboard).

Thanks to her education, she learnt science and art
You (knit yarn) for us, such sweet memories

She flew across the sky, travelled the world, dived under the sea
My grief, and your only chore is to sit inside

Boy is successful, learning, working, making art
But your art is knitting socks, I rejoice for you

your grandmother never saw the veil, the shawl and the shroud
Those meaningless rags are the enemy's gift

Let us have a thousand clear sea like (Ze), (Gader), (Lawen) 
Until the woman is free, for the fountain of life is muddy

Slavery is not common anymore, beloved Kurdish girl
Go to battle, wake up, now is not a time for sleeping

Smash the door, tear the veil, run to school
The cure for Kurdish pain is education, only education

It is the educated mother who sends a strong son to the fight
I said it, you must understand: (the water never reaches the sea)

Your gold earrings are of no use, hear my words
Worthy of your ears, my love, is (Hemn's) simple poem

--- Hemin Mukriani

Picture - Kurdish Poem

Four children

a Turk, a Persian

an Arab and a Kurd were collectively drawing the picture of a man.

The first drew his head

The second drew his hands and upper limbs

The third drew his legs and torso

The fourth drew a gun on his shoulder

--- Sherko Bekas [1979]

I am Kurdish ( أنا كردي )

I challenge poverty, privation, pain. 

I resist times of oppression with strength.
I have courage.
I do not love angel eyes, skin white as marble.
I love the rocks, the hills, the peaks lost among the clouds.
I challenge misfortune, misery, solitude 

And I shall never be a slave of the enemy, never grant him treaty!

I challenge batons, chains, torture. 

And even if my body lies torn in pieces,
With all my strength 

I shall scream: I am Kurdish.

--- Hemin Mukriyani

Kurds are an ethnic group indigenous to a region called Kurdistan spanning parts of Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. They have long sought the creation of an independent Kurdish nation due to historic repression and the denial of autonomy. Despite partial autonomy in Iraq and Syria, the demand for a separate nation remains unresolved, with Kurdish nationalism still actively suppressed in several countries

BORDERS

Adored land, my country,

a love that I had lost..

if you had been remote 

in an inaccessible sky

or at a summit of the world

I would have known 

how to run to you 

even with iron shoes.

But a narrow distance 

separates you from me..

The invader calls it a border.

--- Hemin Mukriyani

Kurds are an ethnic group indigenous to a region called Kurdistan spanning parts of Turkey, Iraq, Iran, and Syria. They have long sought the creation of an independent Kurdish nation due to historic repression and the denial of autonom. Despite partial autonomy in Iraq and Syria, the demand for a separate nation remains unresolved, with Kurdish nationalism still actively suppressed in several countries.