War continues in Iraq and Syria. Each day thousands of innocents get injured or killed. Thousands of civilians flee their homes each day. It is too much for everyone to bear.
Tensions arise among allies so as to free Mosul from ISIS. Kurdish Peshmarga have captured many villages. Black smoke swims and curls in the air of areas affected. This, however, coincides with the cut of financial support which used to come from Baghdad to Kurdistan Region. I hope what Kurdish Peshmarga is doing is worth an effort.
Everyone fears that again many innocent fighters will get killed and the rich and powerful will get the lions share, like before. And finally, I wish soon peace covers its white sheets over our region again.
I cannot stop myself from posting Bob Dylan‘s timeless song Masters of War, with the attachment of Kurdish translation of some lines:
Masters of War
Come you masters of war
You that build the big guns
You that build the death planes
You that build all the bombs
You that hide behind walls
You that hide behind desks
I just want you to know
I can see through your masks
You that never done nothin’
But build to destroy
You play with my world
Like it’s your little toy
You put a gun in my hand
And you hide from my eyes
And you turn and run farther
When the fast bullets fly
Like Judas of old
You lie and deceive
A world war can be won
You want me to believe
But I see through your eyes
And I see through your brain
Like I see through the water
That runs down my drain
You fasten all the triggers
For the others to fire
Then you sit back and watch
When the death count gets higher
You hide in your mansion
While the young people’s blood
Flows out of their bodies
And is buried in the mud
You’ve thrown the worst fear
That can ever be hurled
Fear to bring children
Into the world
For threatening my baby
Unborn and unnamed
You ain’t worth the blood
That runs in your veins
How much do I know
To talk out of turn
You might say that I’m young
You might say I’m unlearned
But there’s one thing I know
Though I’m younger than you
That even Jesus would never
Forgive what you do
Let me ask you one question
Is your money that good?
Will it buy you forgiveness
Do you think that it could?
I think you will find
When your death takes its toll
All the money you made
Will never buy back your soul
And I hope that you die
And your death’ll come soon
I will follow your casket
By the pale afternoon
And I’ll watch while you’re lowered
Down to your deathbed
And I’ll stand o’er your grave
‘Til I’m sure that you’re dead
گه‌وره‌كانی جه‌نگ
ئێوه له وێرانكاری زیاتر
هیچتان نه‌كرد،
هه‌ر وه‌ك یاری مناڵان
گالته به جیهانه‌كه‌م ده‌كه‌ن
ده‌مانجه‌یێكتان خسته ده‌ستم و
له به‌ر چاوم ون بون،
پاشان پشتتان لێم كرد و
دورتر ڕاتان كرد،
كاتێ فیشه‌كه تیژڕه‌وه‌كان ده‌فڕین
.
.
چه‌ند ده‌زانم قسه بكه‌م
به‌ر له‌وه‌ی نۆره‌م بێ؟
ده‌شێ بڵێن ساوام،
ڕه‌نگه بڵێین نه‌زانم،
به‌ڵام هه‌رچه‌نده بچوكترم لێتان_
یه‌ك شت ئه‌زانم
كه ته‌نانه‌ت مه‌سیحیش
هه‌رگیز نابورێ له‌وه‌ی كه ده‌یكه‌ن
با پرسیارتان لێبكه‌م:
ئایا پاره‌كه‌تان ئه‌وه‌نده باشه؟
لێبورده‌ییتان پێ ده‌كڕدرێت؟
لاتان وایه ده‌توانن؟
پێم وابێ ئه‌و كاته ده‌زانن،
كه مردن وێرانیی خۆی دێنێ
ئه‌و هه‌مو سامانه‌ی پێكتان هێناوه
هه‌رگیز ناتوانێ گیانتان بكڕێته‌وه
هیوادارم كه بمریت
وه زوو ژیانت دوایی بێ
له پاش نیوه‌ڕۆیه‌كی لێڵ
دوای تابوته‌كه‌ت ده‌كه‌وم
ته‌ماشا ده‌كه‌م كه نزمت ده‌كه‌نه‌وه
بۆناو جێی مردن
وه له‌سه‌ر گۆڕه‌كه‌ت ده‌وه‌ستم
تاوه‌كو دڵنیا ده‌بم كه مردویت.
October 19, 2016
Just Words: Echoes of Kurdish Women 