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6 article(s) translated from Kurdish

The Beginnings of Ja’far-i-Magholi and Hasan Tofan

I, Hasan Tofan, along with Ja'far-i Magholi grew up in the Party's network. The day Mamosta Shawboyan called us and told us the good news that we had both been assigned to a clandestine cell involved in purges and killing, we were over the moon. If my memory serves me right, Magholi was a hundred times happier than me that day. When we were standing in front of Mamosta's walrus mustache and wild gaze, Magholi—a diminutive, thick-lipped, wide-nosed man—stood still as...

Union

I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re heaven, then tell me. I will kneel to every god. If you’re hell, then tell me. I will fill the earth with sin. I don’t know how to become one with you. If you’re an invaded soil, then tell me. I will make my skin your flag. If you are, as I am, a gypsy, draw a border around me: make me your country. © Abdulla Pashew. By arrangement with the author. Translation © 2014 by Hemn Bakr and Alana...

The Poetry of Truth: An Interview with Abdulla Pashew

Ziad Rashad:  If you could begin the interview, what question would you ask yourself? Abdulla Pashew: In my poem “Kazewaya,” I say, “I have passed many questions, yet / Many are to come...”  Daily, I ask stacks of questions while another pile accumulates at my mind's gate, waiting to enter. Everything I say, everything I do, I ask myself, “Have I done this right? Have I said this right? Did I do this right?” With so many questions in mind,...

Separation from Earth

When I exploded Like the horizon, my hair Became a belt around the Earth’s waist. For the frozen poles of the south, I turned myself into a pair of socks, For the chills in the North, from threads of my soul I wove hats and turbans. The homeland was sick of me: it wanted to tear me off like an old coat, But I hung myself on the mercy of its beard And from earth I was thrown off into the arms of the universe. In the sky I became a star And now I have my own place and my own passion And...

Sudden Sorrow

Oh, how tired, how exhausted I am from the day’s sorrows I am so weary of my body with the sudden sorrows of the night There is not a night I don’t dream of punishments and executions There is not a day I don’t catch sorrow from the hands of my enemies Sorrow becomes my guest, in the square frame of my room So now, I bemoan my life and my existence Yet in this strange country, they won’t let me settle There will be a day I will be free from this lucklessness I...

If You See Fatima

Translators’ note: Maria was the name of a girl murdered in an honor killing in Sweden; Fatima Shahindal was killed for the same reason a few years before Maria. Maria, If you see Fatima, tell her They are still here, the women-killers, still here with knives, Waiting. Tell her still This darkness, this killing devours us, all our seasons. Tell Fatima This atmosphere changes from one song to another, One sea flies to another, One garden gives rain to another. Every twilight, a door...

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