112 Horses and Gazelles

vejiyam, min şairekî bêwar hilbijart wek deng û siwarî
min her şev hevalhespên xwe şandin xewna wî ku bêjin
em ne neynika însên in û ti şehîn careka din dubare nabe
ku îro hemû hesp girtî bin, naxwe me daye cizayê sûcekî


wekhev in kevir û qral li ber rojê, keşe û hirça birîndar
heman asîman divezele li ser mizgeft û rengê nanê tisî
êdî çek rêya revê nade nêçîrê, êdî niqir tune di kêran de
em bi vê qedera kozmîk re dikin bar kin ji beyarên xwe
em hatin, me ya xwe got, bila Temoyî nebêje min nivîsî
___

I awoke and chose a nameless poet as my voice and my rider.
Every night I sent my fellow horses into his dream to say:
We are not a reflection of humanity, and no hawk will ever strike again.
That all horses are captive today does not mean we have been punished for a crime.

Stone and king are equal before the sun, priest and wounded bear
The same sky turns over the mosque and the color of burnt bread
No gun offers the hunt an escape route anymore; there is no more rust on the blades
We carry this cosmic fate on our backs, from our own shoulders
We came, we spoke our word; may Temo not say I wrote it