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Sunday, March 3rd, 2024


by October 15, 2007 ئەدەب


By: Jalal Barzanji
This  poem originally written in Kurdish in 1993


It was war
That made my first morning sad
It was war
That cast my book to the sea
It was war
That left me repeatedly exiled
It was war
That destroyed me evening play ground
It was war
That deprived me of (garment)’s flowers
It was war
That drove me to despair
It was war
That made me useless

War is found in all aspects
War is flying soul between being and not being
War is record of atrocities
Between one war and anther, is barren flower.
Between cease –fire and cease fire
Is startled sleep.

 Since my beginning
I have been locked inside
Afence  with door shut behind me
Since my beginning , I have been embraced
In the convexity of the cease –fire
Since me beginning I have been like a vanquished army
Sitting idly behind walls
Like an answering device
For another war combat.


I am tired
I am tired of war
There has never been an evening, that allowed me to throw down my gun, dust myself ,take of me belt.
Sleep softly,
With out having to be awakened by anther morning battle
I am tired
I am tired of war
War is with out victories and defeats
I am tired
Since my beginning, I have been wandering
From war to war.




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