miercuri, 22 octombrie 2008

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 )

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