In Search Of The Kurdish Homeland Poem by Aadil Hingorjo

I'm still nameless; I'm still no-one
Murdered out, disappeared away,
Here I stand as a series full of miseries
Enshrined by my vales, I'm still unknown
Trees are out there yet I'm barren
These hills faithfully harden me
And the same hills historicize me
I breathe this air; this sky covers me
This rocky hardness and the watery stream
Oh the evenings of Kurdish realm, you nurse me
Your agonies and your griefs are mine
My tongue recites your songs
Sorrows haven't yet shattered my desires
Seemingly despair storytellers still write
Your folks have faith in me; I'm their hope
Your daughter, your warrior I am your identity
They want me to snatch my symbols
They want me to remain so badly divided
They want to turn me off; they want to tear you
They want me to stay silent
They want me to despise my ancestral dreams
They want me to surrender before their orders
But I don't do it. I strongly oppose them
Like your hilly strength, I stay strong, resistant
To them I'm a rebel. They have the media
They have narratives; they're the emperors
They've the whole bloody history
But I know, and every Kurd knows them well
They're the suckers of Kurdish mothers
They've murdered the unborn Kurdish babies
They're afraid of the Kurdish wave
See, I'm so suffocated yet I do proudly survive
I survive on my own; I survive for you
For you, the beloved Kurdistan, are my life.
Your nights tell to me the tragedies
Your in days train me historically
Haven't ever been off to your lullabies
Yesterday, Sadam massacred my race
Before it all, I was left homeless to pieces
They, the international powers used me
They, the Turkish rulers misused me
The story just doesn't end at misuse
Millions of men and women have been killed
Just because Kurdish humans wanted freedom
Anything for freedom! Yeah, anything!
Into words, it can't be fitted
It's a hell lot brutal episode
Beauty and the truth have been attacked on
Iraq Bombed upon my hills
Iran crushed my men
Turkey goes on doing this
Syrian forces don't still trust me
I'm being unnamed; I'm being all denied
Demolished I stand awfully
Whom should I tell my tale?
Where shall I register the complaint?
Okay, the Non-Muslims are non-muslims,
But what of the Muslim powers?
The so called Muslim brethren too blames me
They mock at me; they've gone literally lustful!
I'm a movement being pushed back
From every side, they slam me off
I'm a freaking crazy girl in search of my street
Streets where the wings of women flied high
The streets free of investigatory inks
The streets where he and I could dance out
The streets where dictators couldn't dictate out
The streets paying tribute to Kurd Guerrillas
The streets free from all the vague whistles
The streets embalming the virgin wisdom
The streets philosophizing the rational tones
The streets immortalizing the mystic rhythms
The streets freely painted with Kurdish colours
I'm Choman Hardi, I'm Kajal Ahmad
I'm Leyla Qasim, I'm Shirin Amedi
I'm an eighteen year old Zilan Orkesh
I'm the deepest sigh of every single spinster
I'm the promised soil of the Kurdistan
On that side, it's disputed
This side is hijacked
And the other side is Turkish occupation
Where am I actually?
Around forty millions of my people are tagless
My people want nothing but the emancipation
Emancipation from all the divided nooks
They've gone so largely tired; they won't give up
Yet they won't step back
They're tied to the freedom spell
We are the comrades heading on to Freedom
My mates and I have fought on many fronts
We've almost defied ISIS
We will kill out the Kurdophobia
Why doesn't the Muslim world feel me?
Why don't the freedomsters pay heed to me?
My conscience stimulates me
I'll find me. I will reach me. I'll receive me.
I'll revive. I'll redo it. I'll be achieve my identity
Right now, I'm like a cloth-less woman
Men from the surroundings don't let me dress
I'm planting dress for me; I'm struggling
Everytime their bullets try hard to undo me
My existence has been in an endless journey
A number of avenues I've crossed so far
Still a lot of there are to head on
The taste has painfully been different
Womanly skins have been rocks
Check ins and spying points
It's all so ridiculous. Cries. Silences. Deaths.
It's like an unending autumn here upon me
I'm dying to color it; I'm advancing to dawn it
Dyingly running in the name of spring
Ah, it makes me await so long
It makes us all await.
Brother and sisters. Sons and daughters.
Fathers and mothers. Teachers and students.
Born and unborn. We all are committed to us
We, the Kurdish souls, will confront them
Our spirits 'll break down their guns and tanks
We all are inscribed to the free breeze
We are the letters written in search of us
We are the beloved's beauty
A new era, and a new marvel
Victims and wishful liberators
We are the stonier poems
Embodying passion, we're the liberty's lyrics
We haven't loss our land; we do celebrate it
Flowery songs engulf us
It's been years, still it's at beginning road
Years and still more years will be dedicated
The youthful stars will be sacrificed
Any extremity is acceptable
In the name of our homeland, yeah, anything!
If not freedom, then no life at all!
A straight divorce to life, if there's no identity!