“To the leader of oppresseds”
22/08/2009 - 16:53

Mustafa İslamoglu

We have buried a scabbard

So the sword is much sharper

“To the leader of oppressed”

Embroidered my peacock’s boson sura by sura

Coveted the spring made out to my name

My breath narrows as the day shines on your memory

Cannot endure this agony

 

Sting of love, hook of heart

To touch his bread bristle

Wind is more agitated today

My mother does not make loaf today

For our diner table is covered with grief

 

What a migration, what a grievous flying

Broken wings of my sparrow, stil dashing

Soul aside, body aside

Father! I saw horses run after being shot

Thousand Hıra hidden in the mane, Yasin

 

Blood dripping on his knees from crupper

Then echo the rough people of yearning

Do not let them shoot

Not to shoot the rearing horses

 

                                                                   June 1989