Kurdish poems in English

Five poems by Dr Fereydun Rafiq Hilmi:

Lord of the insane

Descended in the dead of night.

A dozen men with stripes of white

They broke the fragile (Derga) down.

They saw the screams but heard them not!

Their heads were full of murderous plot.

A woman clutching babes in arms.

A granddad bewildered and alarmed.

Bellowed one soldier:

“Show your man!!”

“Quick be you wench,

Do you understand?!”

Blast after blast he shot the kids,

And bits of wall came crashing down.

“Be grateful bitch, you’re still alive.

I’ll count, to let you live, till five.

Your husband dies so you’ll survive.”

“I don’t know, begged she, where he is.

A wife I’m no longer, even, his.

Perhaps he’s now an Arab (Jash),

Or May be Persian Mulla’s (Diz).

I swear I’m just a Mountain Turk.

I’ll never from my servitude shirk.

You’ve killed my kids and dad in vain.

And mixed their virgin blood with rain.

Allow me, mighty Turkish Knight.

To make you feel at home tonight

The Mongol Warrior laughed aloud,

And spread his legs as he then crouched.

“Come wench, you’re mine and always will,

Deserve to serve my Race and Will”.

The mother went to make them tea.

She crossed the dead who seemed asleep.

And as she laced their tea with Gift,

She thought she saw her youngest shift.

No sooner did he move a slug,

Was let off to pin him to the rug.

Another warrior slit his throat,

And pulled his head off like a goat.

The mother served the poisoned drink,

And when they drank they all felt sick.

But when the last man spent his life,

She picked the largest kitchen knife,

And pierced her belly till she felt,

The tip of steel invade her spine.

Her eyes were filled with tears divine.

“I’m yours she screamed with mighty pain.

God Damn you Lord of the insane”.

 October 1991

 Jash=Collaborator, Diz=Thief,

Gift=German for poison

 

The road to oblivion

 

The years go by.

The decades roll.

As Cowards die,

And Heroes Fall.

A thousand years and we still weep.

Our plight gets worse,

Our wounds more deep.

Long have we lost the will to live,

To take what’s ours, learn to give.

A thousand more we shall remain,

Others’ belongings and domain.

But, ever more we will demand,

to be protectors of the land.

For him and her, for all of them.

We love to be the masters’ scum.

October 1991

 

The Mustard-Gas-Lullaby; The 13th; Death-day

 

Sleep, peaceful baby, don’t wake up

It’s no use crying. Save your lungs

The fight is over. They have won,

Oil will always flow, my son

 

Sleep little child, don’t resist

Our fate is sealed.

Alas We’ve got no allies

The cultured races rule the skies

They hear all so please desist

 

Tomorrow we’ll all forget

A prophet, once more,

God will send

 

Another nation will proclaim

That God did choose them to sustain:

his word, his rules, his holy land

And once again we’ll swallow sand

 

Sleep child you are all alone

Our death no one will ever mourn

 

So close your eyes and pray be dead

Please do not breath, or raise your head

 

However, do remember this:

Dozens of thousands met their ends

 

For God’s sake, they became Anfal,

For greed, the ultimate abyss

 

Sleep, do not cry O’little one

The world has ended, no more fun

 

Die, for tomorrow will begin

A new world order full of sin.

 

The vultures waiting for the feast

The Wise men come from the east

The new Messiah will control,

Everyone’s mind, action and soul

 

Please die my child don’t protest!

A quiet journey is the best.

The Global village is too small:

We can’t reside in it at all

 

They’re waiting, don’t keep them without.

Our homeland must be repossessed.

Halabja’s dead because Saddam,

Was sure that no one would protest.

 

But father why should I pretend?

I’ll live defiant till the end.

No one will tell me what to do

I’m a survivor. But are you?

 

Pray father fight on, don’t give in!

Only the brave will ever win.

For our country people will rise

Reversing failure and demise

 

Halabja Lives on, let them see.

The future will belong to me,

The Kurdish child will survive

And laugh and play and stay alive

 

A red-faced day we will declare

For all the ones who did not dare

To speak the nasty, naked truth

And left the nation in despair

 

The world belongs to him, who dares

The coward runs the brave deters

 

Unless the people want to live

No one will it, its freedom, give

 

Come, father, let’s together shout

We are free; we are free, to all about

 

Our lives and livelihood we’ll give,

Halabja will forever live!

 11/03/2001

 

A fist full of dinars

 

Give up your greed.

Support your breed

Do not react.

Command and Act

Without Conceit.

Divided we can not succeed

Demand your rights.

Attain the heights

And raise your sights.

Do not regret.

Unite, Ignite the flame of freedom

Demand your state.

Do read and write to expedite,

And Stand before invasion.

And spread the word

To every man.

We are an ancient nation

To fail you’ll see,

Your life is grim,

Your future dim,

Your struggle lost before its start.

The seeds of woe with foreign aid,

Is made to grow to serve your foe.

Give up your greed.

Support your breed,

Command and lead.

Divided we can not succeed

 

Your fellow Kurds across the hills,

Beyond the lines await your deed

Your help, they need.

However soon,

However late you will achieve your freedom,

Remember always come the tide.

Your real friends are by your side.

The mountain tops are true to you.

The trees, the hills, protecting you

The Heavens watching over you.

But, as I dream and visualise of times afar,

Beside a stream, I realise..

Alas, today, just as before

Just as before

Lies and deceit and Self-Defeat,

Command the Kurdish nation, for ever more

For ever more.

For some reward, Autonomy, rottenomy,

A fistful of Dinars

A post or two, Oh, Foolish you, for Self Determination?

 

Your Kurdish Front.

Your leaders, who,

For promised wealth are selling you

Telling the world “The Kurds deny”.

A Kurdish State? Who wants to die?

They lie. They lie! What Kurdistan?

What Nation States?

We want to help our Arab mates.

To whom who butchered half out folk

We rushed and kissed and long embraced.

We were mistaken clearly

We’ve always loved him dearly.

The struggle was, but, a sick joke

Seven decades, the people fought.

They died, they sighed: Our Leaders lied.

And as they sleep in their hives.

They live while thousands lost their lives

A tribal chief an Uncle Tom,

A bunch of half-witted scum.

Decided that the Kurds are dumb.

Began to use them for their ends,

And serving their new Turkish “friends”

I wonder what the Kurds have done

deserving such a heap of dung

October 1991

 

A Homeland for Sale

 

The house is wrecked, the kids are dead

My wife was murdered – neighbours said

 

I stand alone, without a hope

Without a home, without a friend

 

The rest have gone, the fighters fled

The fields are empty, but for Lead

 

A poison cloud of mustard gas

An orange film of powdered death

 

Aromas void of nature’s best

An outrage wells up in my chest

 

I cry, I grieve, I wish to die I plead,

I pray – it’s all a lie

 

Perhaps a dream, it’s not my house

The number proves it is, alas

 

I close my eyes and shut my mind

Imagine that I have gone blind

 

I see not more, only the past

The blissful moment does not last

 

The whining noise of death on wings

A giant explosion rings

 

The bastards returned to ensure

No one survives their murderous tour

 

My Lovely Homeland is For Sale

Its mortgage paid with blood and shale

 

The gardens extends across frontiers

Our “Neighbours” peed in them for years

 

Today they brought us more bad news-

We are to suffer like the Jews* more abuse.

 

Two Thousand years and may be more

A nation, no one will adore

 

Our Homeland has never been ours

As tenants we have no powers

 

The Law was made by foreign

Tsars Arabs, Britons, and even Tartars

 

Our Leaders tell us ask no more

Your rights are dreams and we should know

 

The Yanks have always told us so

We know exactly what to do

 

Our Independence is taboo

For Sale it is, then, Kurdistan!

 

I hope our children understand

We have to move to somewhere else

 

And exorcise this dreadful Curse

While all the nations of the world

 

Achieve their freedom

We are told: “You don’t possess the right to be”

 

“An Independent Entity” But, worst of all

For this we fall and stuff the minds of our folk

 

With words our enemies spoke.

And anyone who should persist

 

Is placed on their blackest list.

A danger he becomes at once

 

Against their personal advance.

“For Sale” for a Nominal sum

 

We’ll even take an empty slum.

In any corner of your earth

 

We plead with those who stole our wealth

In any portion of your globe.

We will reside and do our job

 

Beneath a tent or plastic sheet.

We’ll huddle and curl up our feet

 

If only we are to survive,

The holocaust and stay alive

 

We’ll follow orders just like sheep,

A Promise we shall always keep

 

“For Sale”, a sign for all to see.

By reason of economy

 

The bankrupt tenants have to leave.

A quick sale they have to achieve

 

The world believes we don’t exist.

A problem that seems to persist

 

They have convinced us that we should.

Forget the future if we could

 

We must accept the status-quo.

There is no hope and we should know

 

The Kurds are Arabs with no brain.

Or, Mountain Turks fighting in vain

 

Proclaiming that they are apart.

But know they are not deep in their heart

 

A type of Persian, if you please.

Inferior and so ill at ease.

 

The slightest problem and they crack.

They even blamed it on Zohak

 

Some Kurds Belong to S. Hussein.

Although reputedly insane

 

They must remain in his domain,

And pledge allegiance to his reign

 

Our leaders think we are to blame.

We should repent, adopt his aim

 

He IS the Leader of Iraq,

And is immuned from all attack

 

We won’t repeat the episode.

We will approve of this “accord”

 

Democracy is all we seek.

“FREE KURDISTAN?”

 

What Bloody Cheek?!

 

In Shame and guilt we all submit

The Fault is ours we admit.

 

An aberration which will pass

We do apologise en masse!!

 

* changed in protest against behaviour of the Jewish state!

October 1991

 

One Response to Kurdish poems in English
  1. Safo Dirik
    November 22, 2011 | 14:06

    Such a strong reflection.
    Such a touching brief on a near history.
    Such a naive poetry.
    I admire and unlike the heavy drama words suggest, I’m filled with hope.
    If people are able to survive under such constraint, this gives them more chance to stay alive than the countries made on artifical cultures easily diminishing in history.
    These poems are a reply to Mr. Robert Fisk’s ideas about Kurdish issue. He was so Larry King like while he was blaming Kurds to be a victim of a “Kurds versus Kurds” destiny. Strangers so easily argue on the matters they don’t feel in their heart.
    Please continue on this.
    Congragulations.

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