Collection 1

Rênas Jiyan

The 1st collection, at the window, the first of morning, this spark, from the flash of a spark, in its light
Kids took photographs, tasting a shaved ice, smelling round bread baked in winter.

You woke up just now and
You, as if wounded somewhere,
You, with all your might, stared at that wound
You looked at the snow,
You who, just like snow, come in abundance at night
And suddenly, in early morning, make everywhere white
Sleeping with you more is even more pleasing than
Considering snow at the window
You who wash your face with snow
On an empty stomach

A snowflake conceived you
You are snow
I am snow
am snow
am snow
Oh, oh, grace, oh, oh, grace
Your mouth is steaming, a fresh cup of coffee
 
Did I not say?
If not for you, no one would eat shaved ice
If not for you, kids wouldn’t catch starlings and skylarks
You are snow as
snow is . . .

translated from the Kurmanci by Zêdan Xelef and Alana Marie Levinson-LaBrosse