The Dawn Song

By @kurdish-writer

The Dawn Song

By @kurdish-writer

A song about a Kurdish boy who writes this poem to his mother before he is to be executed. This song reached a very famous former Turkish singer named Ahmet Kaya whom sung the song with as much emotion as the boy himself.

Chapter 1

Dear mother

Don’t search for me here

Don’t search Mom

Don’t ask my name at the door

The stars have fallen on your hair

Don’t ****** them Mom, don’t cry

 

I waited long since with a shaved face,

My eyes on the dawn

While my hands are stretched, my ears are on the beam

I missed the death, Mom.

While I wanted madly to live

 

Ah.. I wish I could have given

a country filled with boys and girls

from tip to toe…

as a present…

to each mother who runs with their heart in her palms

 

Unbounded with my dreams

Young with my insistence

Child with my amazement,

When I was passing it out to my confident

A bud opened quietly on my cheek…

 

Think about Pir Sultan, Mom, about Şeyh Bedrettin

About Börklüce, about Torlak Kemal

Think about the people Mom

Think so that your heart takes a swing

Think so that at that moment,

A happy dragonfly

That believes in the good days.

Rises

 

 

So, my beautiful Mom…

Instead of flying the stars in my country’s colorful dawn,

I drank my own blood while sitting within the stars

What a strange feeling is dying,

When I am going to the gallows tree,

All the girls that I kissed are coming to mind.

There is surely an explanation of that.

 

I left destitute paper and the pen behind on the table.

Forgive me, my beautiful Mom,

For not writing a letter with the taste of a son.

Don’t get angry with me.

 

I didn’t want their hands to touch.

I didn’t want they eyes to touch.

You were going to cry and smell,

And maybe carry it in your arms for a lifetime.

The pain of living hangs on my neck,

While I wanted to live like the taste of folk songs

 

To die is a strange thing, Mom!

I’d like to steal the feast from the captivity of feast cards

And give it to the hands of the children

In a box decorated with pearls

And then, then my beautiful Mom

I’d like to fall in love with a girl like falling from the roof

 

I have stood on the edge of the night,

There’s no pocket on the shroud.

I have filled stars in my arms,

Run children run,

The morning is coming upon me.

 

In short, my beautiful Mom.

No more shivering when I think about a flower.

No more laughing, hoping, longing.

Or waiting for a letter.

With laying my eyes to the distance

 

To die is a strange thing, Mom!

From now on, I cannot write puzzled, hopeful poems

Like bleeding the walls with my fingernails.

I cannot fix my eyes on the ceiling with an absolute faith

I cannot be a father, for example

To turn into earth is a strange thing, Mom

 

To die is a strange thing, Mom!

The cliffs, which builds up in you,

The mountain, which collapses in you.

I say “feast”, say “flower”,

I say “cones that spread their wings to the bottom of pine”.

It looks like a child with rose-pink cheeks.

Yet, losing your son is a strange thing, Mom.

 

It’s me who dies in every fight.

Each woman holding flag and clashing

Gives birth to me.

While clawing the soil.

I am the yearning, I am the fight, I am the love

 

Wait for me, Mom

One morning, I happen to show up.

One morning, Mom, one morning.

When you open the door to brush your pain away,

Many of my peers,

Whose names are different, whose voices are different

With flowers in their arms

Bring a new country with flowers.

https://lyricstranslate.com

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