Kurdish Poet Sherko Bekas
A darling poem
I was the host to the rain
In my room
When it departed,
It left me a flower
I was the host to the sun
In my room
When it departed,
It left a small mirror for me
I was the host to the tree
In my room
When it departed,
It left me a comb
But you Oh! Beautiful girl
When you were my guest
In my room
When you departed
You took the flower, the mirror, and the comb
But you left me
(1987)
Counting
If you could one by one
count all the leaves in this garden
If you could count all the fish
Little and big
In the flowing river in your front of you
If you could one by one count
The migratory birds
during their migration season
From the north to south
and from the south to north,
I would also promise to count
one by one
All the victims of this beloved land of Kurdistan!
(February 1987)
If
If, from among my poems,
You remove a single rose,
Then one season
Of my four seasons dies.
If you remove a lover
Two of them die.
If you remove bread
Three of them die.
And if you remove my freedom
Then my years die,
And
I, myself, will die as well.