{"id":847,"date":"2009-11-19T10:09:25","date_gmt":"2009-11-19T10:09:25","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/localhost\/wp\/wordpress\/abdulla-pashew\/"},"modified":"2018-10-26T07:47:13","modified_gmt":"2018-10-26T07:47:13","slug":"abdulla-pashew","status":"publish","type":"page","link":"https:\/\/kurdishacademy.org\/?page_id=847","title":{"rendered":"Abdulla Pashew"},"content":{"rendered":"
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A.Pashew<\/p><\/div>\n

Born in 1946 in Hawler, Southern Kurdistan, he studied at the Teachers Training Institute in Erbil. In 1973 he went to the former USSR where six years later, he earned a Master of Arts in pedagogy, specializing in foreign languages. In 1984 the Institute of Oriental Studies of the Academy of Sciences awarded him a Ph.D. in Philology. From 1985 to 1990 he lectured at Alfatih University in Libya.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

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A.Pashew<\/p><\/div>\n

Born in 1946 in Hawler, Southern Kurdistan, he studied at the Teachers Training Institute in Erbil. In 1973 he went to the former USSR where six years later, he earned a Master of Arts in pedagogy, specializing in foreign languages. In 1984 the Institute of Oriental Studies of the Academy of Sciences awarded him a Ph.D. in Philology. From 1985 to 1990 he lectured at Alfatih University in Libya.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

Since 1995 he has lived in Finland. His first poem was published in 1963, his first collection in 1967. Since then he has published 8 collections, the latest, Baraw Zardapar-Towards the Twilight, was published in Sweden in 2001. He has also translated many distinguished writers and poets, in particular Walt Whitman and A. S. Pushkin.<\/p>\n

CONDITION<\/strong><\/p>\n

No, I am not against dictators!
\nLet them multiply across the earth
\nLike the shadow of God.
\nBut on one condition–
\nLet the children be dictators!<\/p>\n

THE FREE WORLD<\/strong><\/p>\n

The free world has listened for so long
\nTo the pulse of oil deep in the heart of things
\nIt has become humpbacked,
\nStone deaf.
\nIt doesn’t hear the mountains burning.<\/p>\n

THE DAGGER<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am a bare dagger!
\nMy Motherland is a stolen sheath.
\nDon’t think I am bloodthirsty!
\nGo; find fault with the one,
\nWho unsheathed me!<\/p>\n

IF YOU WISH<\/strong><\/p>\n

If you wish your children’s pillows
\nTo bloom pink,
\nIf you wish your gardens
\nTo be fruitful,
\nIf you wish heavy clouds
\nTo send green messages to your fields
\nAnd raise the sleepy eyelids of spring _
\nThen liberate
\nLiberate the bird
\nThat nests on my tongue!<\/p>\n

THE UNKNOWN SOLDIER<\/strong><\/p>\n

If someday a delegate comes to my land
\nAnd asks me:
\n“Where is the grave of the Unknown Soldier here?”
\nI will tell him:
\n“Sir,
\nOn the bank of any stream,
\nOn the bench of any mosque,
\nIn the shade of any home,
\nOn the threshold of any church,
\nAt the mouth of any cave,
\nIn the mountains on any rock,
\nIn the gardens on any tree,
\nIn my country,
\nOn any span of land,
\nUnder any cloud in the sky,
\nDo not worry,
\nMake a slight bow,
\nAnd place your wreath of flowers.”<\/p>\n

THE TREASURE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Since the beginning of the earth
\nMan has been seeking after
\nPearls, gold and silver
\nSearching the depth o oceans
\nAnd the peaks of mountains.
\nBut, every morning, I discover a treasure,
\nWhen I see your plaits
\nCovering half of the pillow.<\/p>\n

PARTING<\/strong><\/p>\n

Every night, when a pillow
\nInvites our heads
\nAs the two poles of the earth
\nTo the feast of sorrow,
\nI see the parting lies between us
\nShining, Like a dagger,
\nI remain awake,
\nStaring at it.
\nDo you see it, as I do?<\/p>\n

LUSTRE AND CANDLE<\/strong><\/p>\n

Some need a magnificent lustre
\nTo find the way to the Sultan’s heart.
\nSome need a piece of a candle
\nFor self seeing and self burning
\nTherefore, before taking up my pen,
\nI examine
\nWhat is lighting inside me:
\nThe lustre, or the candle!<\/p>\n

POETRY<\/strong><\/p>\n

Poetry is a capricious woman
\nAnd I have fallen deeply in love.
\nPromising each day to come to me
\nShe comes rarely, or not at all.<\/p>\n

IF AN APPLE …<\/strong><\/p>\n

If an apple falls to my lot
\nI will cut it into two pieces:
\nOne for me,
\nOne for you,
\nIf I win a smile, I will cut it into two pieces:
\nOne for me
\nOne for you.
\nIf I come across grief
\nI will inhale it as deeply
\nAs the last breath!<\/p>\n

IF I RETURN ONCE MORE<\/strong><\/p>\n

If I return once more,
\nIn the mornings,
\nI will frolic in the lush fields like a lamb
\nI will chew a blade of bitter grass
\nAnd dampen my feet in the dew till I fall.<\/p>\n

If I return once more,
\nI will climb the nut-trees, like a squirrel.
\nLike a low cloud, I will drift over green meadows.
\nLike a sad willow,
\nI shall bow over streams,
\nTouching the stones on their banks tenderly.
\nOh, only to return once more?<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nWith staring eyes I shall watch
\nHow the heads of corn yellow;
\nHow the apples and the pomegranates ripen,
\nHow the birds make their nests;
\nHow the young ones learn to fly;
\nHow the migrant swallows sit in a row
\nOn the telegraph wires;
\nWhere brooks originate
\nAnd where they stream!<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nI will drink a sip of water
\nFrom the breast of each spring
\nTo make them all my mothers.
\nIn every cave
\nI will lay my head on a stone each night
\nTo make them all my cradles.<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nI shall bring tongues of fire
\nTo those who cannot speak.
\nI shall bring wings of fire
\nTo birds which cannot fly.<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nI won’t allow the young to rip up flowers
\nTo place in dead vases<\/p>\n

I will teach them how to place them
\nOn the breasts of their lovers
\nBefore embracing them.<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nI’ll celebrate the birthdays of the children
\nWho have known no celebrations,
\nInstead of candles,
\nI shall burn my fingers
\nI shall burn the pupils of my eyes
\nI shall burn the youngest of my verses.<\/p>\n

If I return once more
\nI shall bow over any cradle
\nI come across
\nAh, children, if only I return once more.<\/p>\n

I LOVE YOU BOTH<\/strong><\/p>\n

Since I’ll only live once
\nI love both of you.
\nSince I’ll only live once
\nI offend neither the sunray,
\nNor the moonbeam!<\/p>\n

If I lived twice
\nI would have loved you in this life
\nAnd loved the other in that life.
\nSince I only live once,
\nI have no choice:
\nI love both of you.
\nI offend neither the sunray
\nNor the moonbeam.<\/p>\n

SUNFLOWER<\/strong><\/p>\n

My Homeland–is the nest of the sun,
\nAnd the meadow, where rays bloom.
\nMy head–is not a head,
\nBut an ever-inclined sunflower!<\/p>\n

ON THE FUNERAL OF A POEM<\/strong><\/p>\n

My head was sea,
\nThoughts, like small fishes,
\nSank and floated till the morning,
\nI threw my net into the sea:
\nIt fished a single.
\nAnd that one,
\nTurning from side to side, died!<\/p>\n

YEARNING<\/strong><\/p>\n

I am in a hurry
\nIt is high time to get
\nSome leaves of trees,
\nSome blades of grass,
\nSome wild flowers from that land.
\nI am not afraid to forget their names
\nI am afraid to forget their fragrance.<\/p>\n

TO A COLD BEAUTY<\/strong><\/p>\n

I admit–you are beautiful,
\nLike a drop of dew on a petal.
\nI admit–you are a temple for every eye,
\nLike a drop of dew on a petal.
\nYet still I am bored with you,
\nAs if you were my false passport–
\nI am mountainous!
\nThe slightest touch
\nBoils my blood like a flame
\nAnd you are cold,
\nLike a drop of dew on a petal!<\/p>\n

SNOW-STORM<\/strong><\/p>\n

It was a snowstorm.
\nIn the dusk, I made a nest of my own palm
\nFor a wandering snowflake.
\nI gazed on it like a lover.
\nWhen it melted, I recognized it–
\nA drop of water in Kurdistan!<\/p>\n

YOUTH AND OLD AGE<\/strong><\/p>\n

However I may try
\nI cannot distinguish youth from old age.
\nI worship both:
\nAt dawn-the sunrise
\nAt evening-the sunset
\nRavish me.<\/p>\n

MARTYR<\/strong><\/p>\n

Last night I left my bed,
\nHeld up my thunderful head
\nTowards the sky.
\nI saw thousands and thousands of stars,
\nScattered about,
\nLike seeds of pomegranate.
\nI came back, and remained sleepless
\nWith sorrow for those stars
\nThat fell down prematurely.<\/p>\n

Source:\u00a0International Journal of Kurdish Studies,\u00a0 Jan, 2004
\nTranslated by: Abdulla Pashew and Rikki Ducornet<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

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