On the borders of Kurdland

On the borders

Where throats are

Choked with good-byes

And eagerness is

Suspended in the eyes

And people asked

When.. Where are we ? Why..?!

Here a child dies...

There a baby lies, and

Another face-down cries:

My wound is hurting

My breath is hurting

My stomach is hurting,

Mother: Am I to die?

And my white pigeon ?!

Are we going to die ?

In tears she said:

There beyond the border posts...

Only days: we won’t die

For us, God will try...

Again, the child cries:

Will my pigeon die ?

Mother: I love her...

She is my life

Because I love,

She does not deserve to die

I love her...

All broke in tears

Dear.. your pigeon died

When the planes pried

And she broke in tears

My white pigeon was gassed ?!

My Kurdish pigeon died

Mother.. my hair is falling

Why ? am I do die ?

Some water please... w-a-t-e-r ...
(In the neverminded of Nemat Sharif )