Gulala NOURI (poet, fiction writer, translator; Iraq) has worked as a Kurdish-language teacher and in women’s issues and human rights. Currently, she works in Kurdistan for the High Commission of Erbil Citadel Revitalization (HCECR). Nouri has published four collections of poetry, [While the Dolphin is Sleeping] (1999), [This Crowd is Not Up To You] (2001), [Calendars of Loneliness] (2005), and [Firewood] (2009). Her translations of Vladimir Vysotsky’s poetry from the Russian into Kurdish and Arabic came out in 2011. Nouri has two books forthcoming, a translation of stories on the Halabja massacre, and her first story collection
a definition of date palms and bullets to father and mike
You will find there
different leaders for each side
but since the early days of god
the dates are still unified
Dates are the morning key for
a woman who is on her way to vanish.
Dates are anonymous women
or priests from Ur, Assyria, and Babylon.
I inherited the definition of dates from my Kurdish father:
" you are as inviting and sweet as dates,
stubborn as a date palm, as delicious
as the black dates of klecha*
I have learned persistence from bullets
friends have taught me what blank means
and that blocks and obstacles are an absolute violation
Bullets are the unplanned danger
of a small snail squeezing itself
into the shell of the perished and the injured
a newer version of the story says that
a bullet is a path
aiming to shoot the heads of those disagreeing
in Iraq they say" heads which believe in rainbows should be cleaned in the river"
Dates and bullets are
the archive of a woman
who lacks the credit to enter the earthly or heavenly paradise
or
a story of a mother leaving her sons' funeral quietly
and lets their coffins face the dirt.
Mothers who lingered motionless
like nails
at the doors of dungeons
some time between god's long absence
and the arrival of men from far away islands
Dates and Bullets are
mothers who waited for so long at the edge of time's sins
they may get a suggestion to keep away the pain
Even just briefly outside the heart cavity
Fulbright women, like airports, always waiting
for pointless brothers
lovers of gravediggers
wives of eunuchs
targets of men in masks
Documents of bitterness are pouring
from eyes fixed on the wall of time
and souls are weary palms
and when palms are weary
they leave the suns without a shadow
making the oranges fatherless
"kill your weary date palms" he advises me
The morning after every nightmare
he refines what he preaches
for he knows the whiteness of snow
and the right love at the right time
and how to kill the past with the right kind of present
But how can he ever understand my father's expressions
or all these unidentified bodies?
klecha: an Iraqi holiday cookie filled with dates or nuts and sugar.
POEM: GULALA NOURI
TRANSLATED FROM ARABIC: DALIA RIYADH
REVISED BY: SARA COOPER
different leaders for each side
but since the early days of god
the dates are still unified
Dates are the morning key for
a woman who is on her way to vanish.
Dates are anonymous women
or priests from Ur, Assyria, and Babylon.
I inherited the definition of dates from my Kurdish father:
" you are as inviting and sweet as dates,
stubborn as a date palm, as delicious
as the black dates of klecha*
I have learned persistence from bullets
friends have taught me what blank means
and that blocks and obstacles are an absolute violation
Bullets are the unplanned danger
of a small snail squeezing itself
into the shell of the perished and the injured
a newer version of the story says that
a bullet is a path
aiming to shoot the heads of those disagreeing
in Iraq they say" heads which believe in rainbows should be cleaned in the river"
Dates and bullets are
the archive of a woman
who lacks the credit to enter the earthly or heavenly paradise
or
a story of a mother leaving her sons' funeral quietly
and lets their coffins face the dirt.
Mothers who lingered motionless
like nails
at the doors of dungeons
some time between god's long absence
and the arrival of men from far away islands
Dates and Bullets are
mothers who waited for so long at the edge of time's sins
they may get a suggestion to keep away the pain
Even just briefly outside the heart cavity
Fulbright women, like airports, always waiting
for pointless brothers
lovers of gravediggers
wives of eunuchs
targets of men in masks
Documents of bitterness are pouring
from eyes fixed on the wall of time
and souls are weary palms
and when palms are weary
they leave the suns without a shadow
making the oranges fatherless
"kill your weary date palms" he advises me
The morning after every nightmare
he refines what he preaches
for he knows the whiteness of snow
and the right love at the right time
and how to kill the past with the right kind of present
But how can he ever understand my father's expressions
or all these unidentified bodies?
klecha: an Iraqi holiday cookie filled with dates or nuts and sugar.
POEM: GULALA NOURI
TRANSLATED FROM ARABIC: DALIA RIYADH
REVISED BY: SARA COOPER
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