Poems by the Kurdish poet Sherko Bekes*
Translation from Kurdish by Ednan Bedreddin
Love
I listened to the heart of the earth,
And it spoke of its love for the rain.
I tuned into the heart of the water,
It sang of its love for the springs.
I heeded the heart of the tree,
And it whispered its love for green leaves.
But when I listened to my lover’s heart,
It spoke profoundly of freedom.
********************
Euphrates (1)
Sometimes,
The Euphrates comes visiting me,
Sits beside me,
Smooths its beard with its hand,
And then says:
Weave your poems,
For poems,
And the waters of my heart,
Never forget the poor.
*********************
Visit
Rain once visited my room,
When it went away,
It left behind for me
A flower.
The sun too visited my space,
Upon its departure,
It bequeathed to me
A tiny mirror.
A tree once guested in my abode,
As it withdrew,
It left for me
A plant cell.
And when,
You, my captivating maiden, graced my room,
You took with you
The flower, the cell, and the mirror,
Yet you left behind,
A poem for me to hold.
**********************
My Home
Tonight,
Every lamp is lit,
Yet my home is cloaked in darkness,
Why haven’t you come, my beauty?
Tonight,
Every lamp is dimmed,
Yet my home is filled with light,
Is it you, my beauty, who’s arrived?
**********************
Know This
If the moon were more beautiful than you,
I wouldn’t have loved you.
If music was more melodious than your voice,
I wouldn’t have heeded your call.
If the stature of the waterfall
Was more graceful and beautiful than yours,
I wouldn’t have yearned to see you.
If the scent of the garden
Was more fragrant than yours,
Your scent wouldn’t have drawn me at all.
And if you ever question my poems,
Just know,
If they weren’t as beautiful as you,
I would never have written them.
**********************
If…
If you strip the flowers from my verses,
One of my four seasons will die.
If you remove my beloved,
Two will die.
If you steal the bread,
The third will die.
If you take away freedom,
My whole year will die,
And with it, so will I.
*********************
Desire
I longed to be a horse,
But only if ridden by a lover.
I wished to be a tall mirror,
Within a beauty’s chamber.
I dreamed of being a bouquet of red roses,
But only for my beloved on Valentine’s.
I yearned to be a loaf of bread,
To sate a hungry soul’s confines.
I hoped to be a river,
Flowing through Sulaymaniyah’s lines.
But most of all, without condition or sum,
I yearn to embrace you,
And then let death come.
*********************
Butterfly
Do not fret, O butterfly,
Your life is brief, but don’t you worry,
For the life you grant
To poems in this fleeting span,
Noah’s long life never could.
*********************
The Flag
Before the flag,
I desire freedom for its colors.
Before the anthem,
I crave liberty for its words.
Before the radio,
I want freedom for all voices.
Before the television,
I wish for everyone to live without shackles.
But above all,
I yearn for:
A basket of bread,
A jar of water,
A lantern for the wall,
And garments to clothe
For the bare children of my homeland.
**********************
In My Homeland
In my homeland,
Newspapers are born mute,
Radios are born deaf,
And televisions are born blind.
What’s strange about my land:
Those born alive are silenced, then killed,
Deafened, then killed,
Blinded, then killed.
In my homeland!
********************
Rain
Whenever the sky pours,
I rush outside to soak,
Hoping, this time,
The rain will carry the scent
Of Ezmer and Gweje. (2)
********************
Festival
Our clouds, unlike those elsewhere,
Descend and rain, seeming to steal tears
From the eyes of four brothers. (3)
Our land, unlike any other,
Has a singular heart, yet it’s crucified
On four separate crosses.
Our mother, unlike any other,
Feels one calamity scorch her heart fourfold.
Thus, in our blood’s celebration,
We merge four festivals into one.
********************
Novel
My beauty,
The novel I once gifted you,
After you delved into its pages,
You handed it back.
I nestled it in my little library,
And all the short stories
Gathered ‘round, curious of her journey
Through your eyes.
She whispered, “This lovely girl
Favors tales that stretch and wind, like me,
Not the brief ones that end so soon.”
And with time,
Each short story,
One by one,
Grew into novels of their own.
**********************
Measurement
History approached,
Leaning its weight against yours,
Yet you stood firm,
Two fingers taller in stature.
When the sea endeavored,
To match its depths to your pain,
It cried for respite,
Nearly drowning in the process.
***********************
Mother
All waters hold sanctity,
But the most sacred of all,
Quenches the thirst
Of the parched soul.
Though many beautiful women surround me,
My love for my mother
Surpasses any other.
· Sherko Bekes (1940–2013) was a distinguished Kurdish poet born in Sulaymaniyah, Iraqi Kurdistan. Son of the revered poet Fayik Bekes, Sherko’s writings resonate with themes of liberty, love, and nature, reflecting the Kurdish cultural and political milieu. Overcoming early adversity after his father’s death, Bekes became an emblematic voice in Kurdish poetry, pioneering the “Rûwange” (vision) style and introducing the “poster poem” concept. His works, celebrated globally, are translated into multiple languages, earning him awards like the “Tucholsky scholarship” and Florence’s freedom prize. Bekes passed away in Sweden but leaves an enduring poetic legacy. (Ednan Bedreddin)
1. The Euphrates River, one of the most significant waterways in Western Asia, originates in eastern Turkey and flows through Syria and Iraq. Spanning thousands of years, it has been vital for agriculture, trade, and cultural development in the region. For the Kurds, particularly those in Syria and Turkey, the Euphrates not only nourishes their lands but also symbolizes their deep-rooted historical and cultural ties to the Mesopotamian landscape. Over time, the river has inspired numerous Kurdish poets, storytellers, and artists, reflecting its intertwining with the Kurdish psyche and identity.(EB)
2. Ezmer is a mountain situated near the city of Sulaymaniyah, which the Kurds in the Kurdistan Region of Iraq fondly dub as the “Cultural Capital of Kurdistan” due to its eminent standing in Kurdish literature and art. Gweje is one of the city’s districts and the birthplace of Sherko Bekes.(EB)
3. The number 4 in this poem refers to the homeland of the Kurds (Kurdistan), which is divided between four countries: Turkey, Iran, Iraq and Syria.(EB)
