
Kurdish Classic poems
by:
Mahwi
Translated by: Fuad abdulrahman
وهرگێڕانی: فوئاد عهبدولڕهحمان
-1-
World is Joy house
World is joy house, do not step in, go
No one stayed in without terror?
It is such a world, if the first two days tranquil, but the third dissolve. This is the mother of demons illness.
Sulky and Cheerful at the same face, at the same time,
False subdue, false mercy, the both are false.
When puts back on your back, that is for back breaking,
Today you thank the God, but tomorrow is the tragedy.
Changed plant of my young hood garden to straw, but newly the tree of hope is spouting.
The neck, her flower is submitting, even she is little branch,
Look, oh my eyes, the brow are places upon the eyes.
Mahwi, when you by (you die) get rid of death,
Your going is waiting you, first come to go.
-2-
In drink house
God, if we go out from the drink house,
To whom we refuge, to where we turn?
When we accept that you take us to the heaven, so any thing we are, but leave the Zahid far away from us,
Her Graph and her braid interlocks on the her face,
What happened? Is there a battle between Zang and Khatah because of China?
Tears of sadness is waving in my cuddle, but hugged your waist until the belt.
As more as narrow and disaster, it is so good to go out from the world, even to go to the hell.
You Mahwi, You need your head, do not loosed,
When Lover comes, we must go.
It is impossible to dissent from bound of her braid,
It is chains of layers, layers on layers.
-3-
What could I do, if?
What could I do, if I do not discover by the win-gleam the God-fearing ness?
What could I do, if I do not process by such a candle such a night?
All what in heart's bank is only pain exchanging,
So what could I do, if I do not deal with love suffering by this credit?
There is no conformity between Mullah's hand and braid's beloved belt,
What could I do, if I do not choose monastic faith like the Shaik?
On the road of that pretty existing, I done my self dust-ground, but she did not walked on me once,
So what could I do, if I do not strew the dust of whole the earth on my head?
It is long ago that the full-love wrangle city is gloomy,
What I do, if I do not strike a revolution by madness low?
To weeping, the moisture is ended in the eyes, so it is time to genuflection on the door.
My black year is without rain, than what could I do, if I do not pray for irrigation.
Because of you, whole the world people became my enemies, but my case is absolute opposition.
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