Infectious Human, Infected Earth
“Dedicated to the greediness and ignorance of man and the silence of earth.”
Peshawa Kakay‘s Poem
In Wuhan, they spat, it didn’t become a cotton candy
Melting in a mouth;
It fixed itself to the ground,
They sent us on a vacation
Like a dead guest.
The mind became the mouse,
A cough, from the tunnel of the throat
Races to the blood, brings out the inner peace to the face
Can’t you see, the winter snuffles,
Behold! The floccus clouds come out from his chest.
Can’t you see the man has become gaunt?
And the spring has become deaf as well,
It doesn’t care, if the greenery,
Or the green forest…
Rise to the sky,
Man likes collusion, he sends his brother to death just for producing and spreading drugs.
Can’t you see the summer’s dry and sore throat?
It sweats like a sinner in the church;
With a raging fever
It loses its temper and doesn’t know how to think of itself.
Can’t you see the autumn is swollen?
It makes a mask from a leaf,
To keep itself away from the human pandemic and the earth doesn’t become infected.
Can’t you see?
The earth puts on an oxygen mask
Mercury and others
Keep the distance, not to catch the human pandemic;
In front of the sun, they pray for
The earth, to get out of the situation and
Leave the hospital.
Is holding a seven mm bladder stone that can’t pass on its own.
And doesn’t know how to get out of the Milky Way.
In Asia, coughing! of earth
Tears up the chest of the sky,
It makes the clouds
The shooting star streaks across the sky like a pandemic:
It pretends that
The sun has fever and
The moon is showing symptoms on the night of the full moon.
What I have to do with the U.S-China dialogue, damn it!
A cop comes out from nowhere
And asks me to wear a mask, why I don’t wear one
My penalty is the amount of money;
I tell him, to remove his inner mask,
Show your true color.
This pandemic became a tradition
Can’t you see its roots grow deep into the ground,
We will die, without immortality
We ought to change things for the better
So you will appear more distinctly on the earth.
In Africa, everything is about to stop smiling and
Every big lip is about to wilt
It holds your legs and doesn’t let you move.
It makes place lost and
Makes time go astray,
It has no idea how to make you squirm.
On the other side, God is racing on lips
Just like a word he wants to come out,
You make way for it in the language
So that your fear crouches inside the thoughts.
Prayer becomes a woodpecker
Contemplation loses patience
What a pandemic! It can hide a thousand words in the tongue,
The idea, has a surge then paralysis
The crow vomits.
The black, goes darker.
It is the era of worms’ famine.
It doesn’t even make time for decomposition;
Death is so crowded that it can’t search for its solitude.
Fear lays in the hearts as if an aggressive rooster attacked it.
Whiteness, turns into blue and purple
An elder says Alas!
Just in four verses, the future is silenced.
An old woman, is the last memory of a sparrow
To narrate its tale on a kernel of wheat.
Just for once,
Make greedy man loses the sense of smell and taste.
Nature spontaneously changes itself,
So the greediness of humans comes to an end,
It brings the nits out of the long hair of rivers,
Gets rid of dandruff in the air,
And kills lice in the mustache of the husky man,
Agilely, the flea in the stockyard of capitalists jumps and throws itself:
So they lose consciousness and can’t escape
While the fleas track their way.
Look at those plains, mountains, and hills…
At the Vienna heights
The sun, appears on the horizon
Like an old man with low vision eyes
Holding the shoulder of a mountain,
To climb crags.
A shepherd dreams about Nietzsche,
And says: wake up Nietzsche! Wake up!
It had been too long since human was a living machine.
When he wakes up,
He didn’t care about dreams and the epidemic of this world
Surrounded by sheep,
He makes a mask from his flute and plays a melody.
It’s a day of the wind, it eats grass
It’s the day of the soul, it throws the wind
It’s massaging the stone, in the entity
It’s cultivating the entity, in the water
This pandemic is a soul catcher globe thistle;
How in our small home (earth),
It pierces darkness and lighting
It is dull, it consumes water and fire.
In the ocean,
The night is planting the seeds, stars begin to germinate.
The forest can brush its hair better,
The giraffe can see better and
It can be heard better.
The sun like a red balloon can see the earth with clarity.
The cold of earth opens its mouth and makes man talk
The earth gives birth to the water.
We are the philosophers within books,
Who couldn’t care less about the rise and fall of the tides?
We are the flowers of the same garden, not the same abscission.
We hear the wind howls, not the same place
Catches the foot of a passenger and
Earth, is the last memory of a man
That can hold it tightly.
Excerpt from the book (Light and Darkness of Tugen and the Pocots).
Translated by: Daliya Raouf
The poet PeshwaKakayi, was born on 4/19/1984 in Qaladze/ Kurdistan region of Iraq. He is a graduate from the Political Science Department of the University of Sulaimaniyah. He writes in many literary appendixes in Kurdistan. He is the author of eight books of poetry written in Kurdish. Several have been translated in multiple languages including English.
1. Residue of Breaths, Poetry Collection, 2008.
2. I am, I guard flowers, poems, 2011.
3- Garden- Your Love, Poetry, 2015.
4. From the house of aunt Khunche house, I went to Saeed’s son-in-law. Open text. 2017
5. American letter with the flavor of poetry, Novel poem, 2018.
6. Africa and the earth with the flavor of poetry, poetry, prose, narration. 2018.
7. Cosmology, Poetry, 2019.
8. Rebuilding the light on the return of Zoroastrian Ahmed Mala. Investigation. 2020
9.Immortal path. Poem-Book. 2021
10. Poetic thought and language imagination, about poetry, 2021.
11. Ocean and Antarctica with the flavor of poetry, Open text-Novel poem, 2022
12. Through the Window, I Look at Nali’s Donkey), Poem-prose, 2022.
13. Shiraz letter for FatanaKhadmfars, Literature
14, Return of Africa, cover 1, 11 books, Novel poem