Monday, October 3, 2016


Kajal Ahmed (Born 1967) is a well known Journalist, Writer and Kurdish Poet..

Kajal Ahmed was Born in 1967at Kirkuk in Iraq.. Her poems have been translated into Arabic, Turkish, Norwegian and English. She is also well known in the world of Journalism writing essentially on issues concerning women , War, suffering humanity ,displacement of people across the countries and refugees .
In her popular poem Birds , Kajal refers to the Kurds world over as Birds who had to leave their homeland in Iraq under most tragic circumstances and who are always building new nests and flying from country to country.

( Birds )
by Kajal Ahmad

According to the latest classification,
Kurds now belong to a species of bird
which is why, across the torn, yellowing pages of history, 
they are nomads spotted by their caravans. 
Yes, Kurds are birds! And even when 
there’s nowhere left, no refuge for their pain, 
they turn to the illusion of travelling 
between the warm and the cold climes 
of their homeland. So naturally,
I don’t think it strange that Kurds can fly. 
They go from country to country 
and still never realise their dreams of settling, 
of forming a colony. 
They build no nests 
and not even on their final landing 
do they visit Mewlana to enquire of his health, 
or bow down to the dust in the gentle wind, like Nali……

(Translation from Sorani Kurdish was done by Dr Choman Hardi )
I add another poem by Kajal Ahmed...
(The Fruit-Seller’s Philosophy)
My friend! You were like an apricot.
At the first bite,
I spat out the core and crux.

My old flame! Sometimes
you're a tangerine,
undressing so spontaneously,

and sometimes you're an apple,
with or without the peel.

You're like a fruit knife.
There's never a time
when you're not
at our dinner table.
But forgive me if I say -
you're a waste of time.

Dear homeland, you're like a lemon.
When you are named,
the world's mouth waters
but I get all goosepimply.

You, stranger!
I'm sure you're a watermelon.
I won't know what you're really like
till I go through you like a knife.

(Literal Translation from Kurdish by Dr Choman Hardi )
And then her another goes as under...
(Were I a Martyr)
(Translated by. Darya Ali and
Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse....)

I want no flowers,
no epoch of union,
no dawn of disunion.
I want no flowers
for I am the loveliest flower.
I want no kisses
if for a true wrist
I must hold some knight –
no epoch of marriage,
no dawn of divorce,
no widow's fever.
I want no kisses
if, along with love, I become a martyr.
I want no tears
over the coffin or me, a corpse.
I want no cherry tree of sympathy
dragged to the walls of my grave,
no flowers or kisses,
no tears or miseries.
Bring nothing.
Hold nothing.
I die as a homeland without a flag, without a voice.
I am grateful.
I want nothing.
I will accept nothing.

(Autar Mota ..)
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CHINAR SHADE by Autarmota is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 2.5 India License.
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