Cigerxwin ("The bleeding heart"), is a pseudonym for Sheikmous
Hasan. He came from north Kurdistan and was mainly known as a poet. He made a great impact on Kurdish poetry through his work.
He produced books on Kurdish history, literary history , Kurdish grammar
and also a dictionary. He was born in 1901 or 1903 in the Kurdish village of Hesar close to city the of Mardin within the
then Ottoman Empire. In 1925 he fled to Syria, in 1958 to Iraq and in 1970s to Lebanon. In 1979 he again fled from oppression
to Sweden aged 76. Here he was able to publish several collections of poetry that no publisher in the Middle East had wanted
to publish, due to the infected Kurdish question. Cigerxwin has often been called the father of Kurdish literature. He died
in Sweden in 1984.
Who am I?
who am I, you ask ? The kurd of Kurdistan, a lively volcano, fire and dynamite in
the face of enemy. When furious, I shake the mountains, the sparks of my anger are death to my foes. Who am
I ?
I am in the east, forts and castles towns and hamlets, rouks and boulders, What irony, what a shameful
day ! A slave I am now for blood suckers Yet I saved the Middle East from the Romans and the crusaders. Who am
I ?
Ask the Near East, Ask the Middle East, villages and towns, plains and deserts. They were once all
mine when by war and knowledge I defeated rivals to become crowned over an empire stretching to the borders of
India. Who am I ?
I am the proud Kurd, the enemies' enemy, the friend of peace-loving ones. I am of noble
race, not wild as they claim. My mighty ancestors were free people. Like them I want to be free and that
is why I fight for the enemy won't leave in peace and I don't want to be forever oppressed. Who am I ?
I shall
free my land from the tyrants; from the crrupt Shah and Mollas, from the Turkish juntas
so we may live free like other nations, so
my gardens and meadows are mine again; So I can join the struggle for the good of mankind. Who am I ?
It
was I who defeated Richard the Lionheart My own blood I shed to defend these regions. A thorn I was in my enemies'
side; in my shadow lived the Arabs, Turks and Persian; many a king held my horse's head. Yes I am the warrior, I
am Saladin, the King of Egypt, Syria and Israel. Who am I ?
I am Ardashir, I am Noshi Rawan. In the acient
days rivals feared my caesars regretted my animosity. I knew no fright; in love with adventure; from India
to Greece they paid me tribute. Who am I ?
Yes, I am the Kurd, the Kurd of Kurdistan who is poor and oppressed
today. My castles and forts are now demolished; my name and my fame' swindled by my assailants, those who set
germs into my body to paralize my existence making a nameless soul of me; a nation with no friends. Who am I?
I
am the one who despite it all remains the unyielding Kurd; still formidable to the enemy. The smell of dynamite is
again in my nostrils and in my heart the strong desire to erupt. I am the fighting valiant of mountains who is not
in love with death but for the sake of life and freedom he sacrifices himself so that the land of his ancestors, the
invincible Medes; his beloved Kurdistan , may become unchained. Who am I?
One of my ancestors was the Blacksmith
Kawa who slayed Dahak, the notorious tyrant to break off chains from Kurdish shoulders and save many heads from the
sword and death. The day his vicious reign ended was called NEWROZ, the New Day. When Newroz comes winter departs taking
with it the dark harsh times to make place for light and warmth. This is the time, as Zoroaster says, the evil spirit
Ahriman is defeated at the hand of Ormazd, the god of wisdom and light. Who am I?
I am the maker of Newroz; again
I shall become my own master, the ruler of my land so I may enjoy the fruits of my orchards, relish the sacred wines
of my vineyards and put an end to a dark era by seeking salvation in knowledge and science; I shall make another
new day and breathe the pure air of the liberty. Who am I?
I am Kordokh, the good old Khaldew; I am Mitan;
Nayri and Sobar; the son of Lo Lo; Kardok and Kodi; I am the Mede, the Gosh, Hori and Gudi; I am the Kurmanc, Kelhor;
Lor and Gor; yes, I have always been and remain the Kurd. Despite centuries of suppression in a country by force
divided. Who am I?
I am the son of Lor, Kelhor and Kurmanc who have lost crown and reign to become powerless, betrayed
in the name of religion to carry rosaries in their hands duped by the rulers, deprived of might and wealth, fighting
each other, divided and torn while my oppressed Kurdistan, my wretched Kurdistan remains prossessed. Who am I?
The
son of the Kurdish nation awaken from deep sleep, marching forward, proud as a lion wanting the whole world to
know; I shall struggle and continue the path to freedom; I shall learn from great men, Like Marx and Lenin. I
make a vow to my ancestors, to Salar, Shergo and Deysem, that this of mine will remain vigorous, unyielding, stronger
than death. Let it be kown; I announce with no fear; Liberty is my goal; I shall advance in this path. Who
am I ?
I am not blood thirsty; no, I adore peace. Noble were my ancestors; sincere are my leaders, We don't
ask for war but demand equality but our enemies are the ones who betray and lie. Friendship I seek and offer my hands to
all friendy nations. Long live Kurdistan; death to the oppressor!!!
Translation: Shahin Baker.
Kurdish Poet Xani
Ehmede Khani, the greatest Kurdish poet ever, lived between 1650-1707, in Cizire, a town that
lies in the province of Mardin. Ehmede Xani, the author of "Mem and Zin", the great Kurdish love story is considered to be
the epogee of Kurdish literture. Ehmede Xani's work is a clear evidence of the reality of the Kurdish literature since the
tenth century. Xani, back in the 1600's saw and wrote the Kurdish situation. In his work Kurdish patriotism and Kurdish reality
are incredibly powerful. When people of the region were in the midst of religious conflicts and identified themselves as Christians
or Mohammedan (moslems) instead of their ethnic origins, Xani's thesis for an independent Kurdistan was all too advanced.
The remarkable fact is that Xani lived before the rise of modern nationalism.
Our Trouble
Bartender! For the love of God, please Pour some wine into the crystal glass Let the glass with
the wine show the world Let there appear whatever it is that we wish Let the events ahead of us come to light Let
us know if the future holds promise for us Look! Our misfortune has reached its zenith, Has it started to come down
do you think? Or will it remain so, Until come upon us the end of time? Is it possible, I wonder, that for us, too A
star will emerge out of the firmament? Let the luck be on our side for once, Let our lady luck wake up for change. Let
there emerge from within us, too, One to shoulder the earth Let there be a king of our own, too. Let his sword attest
to our might Let it be known the power of our pen, Let there be an answer to our trouble Let there be an demand for
our knowledge. If we had an exalted leader, A do-gooder wanting a poem Our bullion, too, would be stamped It wouldn't
be so unwanted and suspect. However pure and clean they may be, Value is added to gold and silver with a stamp If
we had a king, If God saw him deserving of a crown If a throne was appointed to him, Our luck would turn around. If
he, too, was provided with a crown Of course, for us too there would be respect. He would feel sorry for us orphans, He
would set us free from bondage to the cravens. They would not be vicorious over us these Turks Ours would not turn into
ghost towns, We wouldn't become fugitives, dispossessed, wretched, We wouldn't bow our heads in defeat to the Turks,
the Tadjiks But God made it so from time memorial He made the Turks and the Persians attack us. Although it is disgraceful
to be their subjects, This disgrace belongs to the persons of repute This is a matter of honor for the Chiefs, the leaders What
can the troubadours and the dispossessed do? Who ever took the mighty sword in his hand, Established in a manly manner
a state for himself. Becuase the world is like a prize bride, Its fate, too, is determined by the mighty sword But
its dowry [2], trousseau, jewels and wedding presents Are goodness, generosity, kindness and forgiveness.
I asked
the world, "What is your dowry?" "Benevolence", it said to me. In short, "with the sword and goodness, the world
submits and bows its head to man". I am confused by God's wisdom: In this world of States Why have the Kurds remained
Stateless, dispossessed, What for have they all become fugitives, condemned? They have conquered the spring of fame
with sword They have subjugated the land of benevolence Every one of their chiefs is of Hatem's generosity And of
Rostem's [3] bravery is every one of their men Look! From Arbia to Georgia It is all but Kurdish lands like a fortress Like
a great wall the Kurds stand between the Turks and the Persians Here and there are all the Kurds occupying all four corners Both
sides make the Kurdish clans Targets of their poison-tipped arrows As if the Kurds hold the key to crossing the borders Each
clan is as strong as a great wall However rough and stromy they get These Turkish ocean and Persian sea It is the
Kurds who are splattered with blood And like a rampart separates the two. Generosity, benevolence, bravery, Chivalry,
guardianship and valor All are credited to the Kurdish clans The fame of their sword and their benevolence is farflung To
the same extent they cherish freedom and independence, They hate submission and obligations. It is the spirit of independence
and exalted bevevolence That has become the obstacle to shouldering the burden of obligation Always without unity it
is because of this Divided and pitched against one another they stand If we had unity amongst ourselves, If we all
together obeyed one another The Turks, the Arabs and the Persians Would all together be in our servitude Then we
would perfect the art of government and religion Then we would acquire all the wisdom and command nature Wheat would
be separarated from the chaff then, Would come forth the real achievers then.
[2]Kurdistan, dowry is what the bridegroom
pays his bride's hand. [3]Hatem and Rostem are legendary figures renowed for their generosity and bravery.
And, as the Cock crew, those who stood before The
Tavern shouted - "Open then the Door! You know how little time we have to stay, And once departed, may return
no more."
Alike for those who for TO-DAY prepare, And that
after a TO-MORROW stare, A Muezzin from the Tower of Darkness cries "Fools! your reward is neither Here nor There!"
Why, all the Saints and Sages who discuss'd Of
the Two Worlds so learnedly, are thrust Like foolish Prophets forth; their Words to Scorn Are scatter'd, and
their mouths are stopt with Dust.
Oh, come with old Khayyam, and leave the Wise To
talk; one thing is certain, that Life flies; One thing is certain, and the Rest is Lies; The Flower that once
has blown for ever dies.
Myself when young did eagerly frequent Doctor and
Saint, and heard great Argument About it and about: but evermore Came out of the same Door as in I went.
With them the Seed of Wisdom did I sow, And with
my own hand labour'd it to grow: And this was all the Harvest that I reap'd - "I came like Water, and like Wind
I go."
Into this Universe, and why not knowing, Nor whence,
like Water willy-nilly flowing: And out of it, as Wind along the Waste, I know not whither, willy-nilly blowing.
The Moving Finger writes; and, having writ, Moves
on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a Line, Nor all thy Tears wash out a Word of
it.
And that inverted Bowl we call The Sky, Whereunder crawling coop't
we live and die, Lift not thy hands to It for help - for It Rolls impotently on as Thou or I.
