Smell Of Myrrh
I will not carve your name on rocks!
In this garden of sorrow blossomed by suffering
Instead, I will put the rocks within my reach, in my pocket
While catching my breath on the hill where recent graves multiplied
Requiem for the premature deaths will fall from my lips
I will set a hammock with the clouds just for you,
Onto the the wings of the free birds, İman
And, the breeze of Han Yunus will kiss your lashes gently
Touching your hair that never had the chance to grow longer
Ragad, you have brethren lying down at the hill of sorrow
Their eyes sealed, wearing the cold garment of the time
They are as much mixed with the earth now
As the blossoms and the leaves of Garkad tree
Children, I named you Amaranth the crimson
I planted your names one by one onto my wounded bosom,
(with my hands) çıkarsak mı diyorum Nevin.. HK
You, the salty river flushing my pale face
You, the lotus fading away, before blossoming
You, the bleeding dove, taking wings over my head
Life is hanging before me like the smell of myrrh
And Jerusalem is the destiny of Palestine!
***The poem is dedicated to İman, Ruveyde, Naim, Rağad, Hadil, Şehid, Ali and all the children of Palestine.
Beyond The River Beyond The Sea 