In war the light in my mother's eyes
disappears,
the lamps in my homeland go blind
and the long beautiful hair of the songs grow white
one hair after another

When war with its nasty noisy shrill
knocks at the door from the outside
inside, the spring flowers turn pale
the sparrows start to groan
and a shiver chillier than ice
penetrates the soul of my pen;
nightmares and monsters enter the
sweet colorful dreams of my child

When War walks across our roads
with its heavy filthy threatening feet
the stars fall their own
spring waters are poisoned
the streets' knees break
and the steps freeze

When War announces its victory
then no guest will turn up to share
the late evening simple warm
hospitality of poverty
no partner will whisper his secrets
to fire-flies
and shake head of satisfaction
after hearing a poem
no one will listen to songs.

In war at midnights
an ugly alien storm
finds its way to my room
and burns all the words of Nali and
Mawlewi poems one by one
tears onto shreds the first primary
school book of my child
spreads poison over the garden of my
morning expectations
strangles the sonnets of Beethoven
the First Dawn Mame Sewa
the flute of Darvish Abdulla
and the poems of Shamlo, Aragon
and Goran.

In War a goblin intrudes my home
at midday
kidnaps my baby with his cot
steals the cute schoolbag of my child
chops off the hair of my sweetheart
deforms the face of my mother
bites deep into the black and white
photos of my childhood

When War breaks out
there will be to say "Good
morning", "Good evening" and
you lose the hope to have a date
with a poem in a calm evening
under a hairy willow tree.

When War starts, the hands
go numb
the pens break
the pianos go on strike
the flutes go dumb

Only in peace the dreams
grow wings to fly
and turn up as guests in the warm
nights of homeland.

In peace the poor in 
my homeland
sit tight in the colorful cottage
of future hopes
and the dreams of their children
overwhelm with toys, mirrors
and doves.

Only in the presence of the deep
melodies of torrents of peace
the fish can understand each other
the sea understands the sorrow of the coast
and whisper sleeps in the warm lap
of intimate thoughts

Only in peace one across the
breadth of the sky
look at the future of homeland
hold arms with mountains
and listen to the simple concerns of a village

In peace the roads overwhelm with 
the sweet noise of childhood and the 
cries of babyhood walking up the simple stars of early life

In peace the electric posts restore
life
breeze scratches itself against the
fresh spirit apple trees

In peace the midnight love without
any feeling of fear listens
in the darkness of the other end of 
the street
to the pink intimacies of
a stranger star

Only in peace homeland can fly
To embrace the green forest of future

War means no strangle shade
to abort water
to demolish beauty and neighborhoods

War is exercise losing
losing everything
the self-esteem, dignity
and freedom of man
the laughter, the mumbling
and first steps of children

War is the practice of death,
destruction and murder
the murder of lamps, paintings
and colors
the murder of pains, wishes and 
desires

War means waiting in ambush
to hunt freedom
to hunt people
to hunt God

War means to open the door for the 
flood of suspicion
means giving permission to monsters
to devour everything: history
language, culture, literature
blood of martyrs 
anthems, uprisings, and maternal 
passion

War means letting everything go
with the wind
Going with the wind of words
manners and sacrifices

War means a bitter practice of vanity
vanity of politics, of mottos and
colorful slogans

To defend peace means to protect that
beautiful and kind worriless world
which is lying in a corner of the eyes
of the children of homeland

To defend peace means not to disturb
the summer midday snooze of
childhood under the dense shade of
a mulberry tree
It means to seal the mouth of
The guns with songs

It means to humiliate and expose
Hatred and learn
"Dara du darai di" again

Notes:

Nali and Mewlei are two Kurdish classic poets.

The First Dawn is the name of a song – melody by the famous Kurdish folk singer Sewe.

Darvesh Abdulla was a legendary Kurdish flutist eternalized in a beautiful poem by the Kurdish modernist poet Goran

“Dara du dari di” meaning Dara saw two trees is the first line in the first lesson in the first book of reading for 1^st primary school children.