Magin_Edward-thesis

Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics 

Thesis Approval Sheet 

This thesis, entitled 

Northern Kurdish poetic features with an application to translation 

written by 

Edward Harry Magin Jr. 

and submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the degree of 

Master of Arts 

with major in 

Applied Linguistics 

has been read and approved 

by the undersigned members of the faculty 

of the Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics. 

__________________________________________ 

Dr. Brenda H. Boerger (Mentor) 

__________________________________________ 

Dr. Peter Unseth (Mentor) 

__________________________________________ 

Dr. Arden G. Sanders 

__________________________________________ 

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by 


Presented to the Faculty of 

the Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics 

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with major in 


Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics 

December 2012

© 2012 Edward Harry Magin Jr. 

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ABSTRACT 




with major in 


The Graduate Institute of Applied Linguistics, December 2012 

Supervising Professors: Dr. Brenda H. Boerger and Dr. Peter Unseth 

This thesis is a study of poetic features in Northern Kurdish poetry. The corpus, which 

represents three periods of Northern Kurdish poetry: Neo-classical, New, and Modern, 

was gathered in Iraq during the Fall of 2009. While some studies of Northern Kurdish 

poetry exist in Northern Kurdish, this study is the first of its kind in English. The first 

part of the analysis is on the phonological level, where I identify verse forms and rhyme 

schemes found in the corpus. Much of the information concerning verse forms in 

Northern Kurdish poetry was obtained by means of interviews with poets and an editor of 

poetry. The second part of the analysis is on the syntactic level, where I identify 

deviations from common speech and variations in language that poets capitalize on to 

write their lines of poetry. In the final chapter, I apply these insights to the translation of 

an English poem into Northern Kurdish. I also analyze a translation of the same poem by 

a native speaker, identifying the poetic devices employed.

DEDICATION 

to my Naphtili, who has been my support throughout this long endeavor 

xiii

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS 

I would like to acknowledge my committee members, Brenda Boerger, Pete 

Unseth, and Arden Sanders, for their much needed guidance and encouragement. I am 

also deeply grateful to Shivan Tovi and Perwer Shushi for the many hours they selflessly 

gave me, answering my many questions concerning the poems in the corpus and Northern 

Kurdish in general. I am also very thankful for the contributions of Nicholas and Denise 

Bailey, whose input in the grammar sketch was invaluable. Finally, I would like to 

acknowledge the assistance of the Kurdish poets, scholars, and translators mentioned 

throughout this study, for it is their people and their culture that inspired me to take on 

this project in the first place. 

July 12, 2012 

xv

Table of Contents 

Table of Contents.......................................................................................................xvii 

List of Tables .............................................................................................................xxii 

List of Figures .......................................................................................................... xxiii 

Abbreviations and Other Conventions ....................................................................xxiv 

Pronouns in Northern Kurdish................................................................................xxiv 

Prefixes, infixes, suffixes, particles: ..........................................................................xxv 

1. Introduction .............................................................................................................1 

1.1 General ................................................................................................................1 

1.2 Historical overview..............................................................................................2 

1.3 The people and the language ................................................................................3 

1.4 The sociolinguistic situation.................................................................................3 

2. Literature review .....................................................................................................5 

2.1 History of Kurdish and Kurdish-related poetry, with historical context.................5 

2.1.1 Before 1920..................................................................................................7 

2.1.1.1 The Botan school....................................................................................7 

2.1.1.2 The Goran school .................................................................................10 

2.1.1.3 The Nali school ....................................................................................11 

2.1.1.4 Early publication ..................................................................................13 

2.1.2 1920-1960..................................................................................................13 

2.1.3 1960-1980..................................................................................................17 

2.1.4 1980 to present day ....................................................................................18 

2.2 On translating poetry..........................................................................................19 

2.2.1 The translator as reader ..............................................................................21 

2.2.2 Qualifications of a metapoet.......................................................................23 

2.2.3 Non-ordinary language of poetry................................................................24 

2.2.4 Models for making translation decisions.....................................................26 

2.2.4.1 Holmes’ meta-literature model―types of interpretation and types of 

poetry...................................................................................................26 

2.2.4.1.1 Prose translation of a poem ...........................................................28 

2.2.4.1.2 Translation into a verse form.........................................................29 

2.2.4.1.3 Re-creative translation ..................................................................30 

2.2.4.1.4 Apter on Ezra Pound’s “creative” translations...............................33 

2.2.4.2 Holmes’ “retention versus modernization” model .................................35 

2.2.4.3 Boerger’s principles for translating poetry ............................................38 

xvii

3. Interviews .............................................................................................................. 40 

3.1 On the development of Northern Kurdish poetry................................................ 40 

3.1.1 Neo-classical period................................................................................... 41 

3.1.2 New period ................................................................................................ 42 

3.1.3 Modern period ........................................................................................... 44 

3.2 Sindî on present day poetry................................................................................ 46 

3.3 Quçan on poetry and life in the village............................................................... 46 

3.4 On themes in Northern Kurdish poetry .............................................................. 47 

3.5 Sindî on the use of other Northern Kurdish subdialects...................................... 51 

3.6 Sindî on use of end rhyme ................................................................................. 52 

3.7 Quçan on imagery in his poetry ......................................................................... 53 

4. A grammatical sketch of Northern Kurdish ........................................................ 54 

4.1 Introduction....................................................................................................... 54 

4.2 Orthography and phonetics ................................................................................ 54 

4.2.1 Vowels ...................................................................................................... 55 

4.2.2 Consonants ................................................................................................ 56 

4.2.3 Diphthongs and sound variation................................................................. 58 

4.2.4 Glides ........................................................................................................ 59 

4.2.5 Contractions............................................................................................... 60 

4.3 Stress................................................................................................................. 61 

4.4 Grammar ........................................................................................................... 62 

4.4.1 Typology ................................................................................................... 62 

4.4.1.1 Morphological typology....................................................................... 62 

4.4.1.2 Constituent order typology................................................................... 64 

4.4.2 Nouns and the noun phrase ........................................................................ 66 

4.4.2.1 Nouns .................................................................................................. 66 

4.4.2.2 Noun inflection .................................................................................... 67 

4.4.2.3 Personal pronouns................................................................................ 69 

4.4.2.4 Noun modification ............................................................................... 70 

4.4.2.4.1 Ezafe conjunctive particle............................................................. 70 

4.4.2.4.2 Indefinite state particle ................................................................. 73 

4.4.2.4.3 Specific reference marker ............................................................. 73 

4.4.2.5 Numbers, quantifiers and intensifiers ................................................... 74 

4.4.2.6 Demonstratives .................................................................................... 74 

4.4.2.7 The adjective phrase............................................................................. 76 

4.4.2.8 The noun phrase................................................................................... 76 

4.4.3 Verbs and the verb phrase .......................................................................... 77 

4.4.3.1 Verb morphology................................................................................. 77 

4.4.3.2 Verb agreement.................................................................................... 78 

4.4.3.3 Verb stems and their conjugations........................................................ 80 

4.4.3.4 Copulas – present, future and past tenses............................................. 80 

xviii

4.4.3.5 Irregular verbs ......................................................................................83 

4.4.3.6 Complex predicates (complex verbs) ....................................................86 

4.4.3.7 Aspect, mood and negation...................................................................88 

4.4.3.7.1 Imperfective aspect .......................................................................88 

4.4.3.7.2 Negation .......................................................................................89 

4.4.3.7.3 Irrealis modality............................................................................89 

4.4.3.7.3.1 Modal verbs ............................................................................92 

4.4.3.7.3.2 Modal adjectives .....................................................................93 

4.4.3.7.3.3 Non-past temporal adverbial clauses .......................................94 

4.4.3.7.3.4 Non-past conditional clauses ...................................................94 

4.4.3.7.3.5 Reason and purpose clauses ....................................................95 

4.4.3.7.3.6 Past tense subjunctive clauses .................................................96 

4.4.3.8 Perfect tense .........................................................................................97 

4.4.3.9 Past perfect tense ..................................................................................98 

4.4.3.10 Passive voice ........................................................................................99 

4.4.4 Adpositions ..............................................................................................100 

5. Analysis of Northern Kurdish poetry .................................................................103 

5.1 Introduction to the corpus.................................................................................103 

5.2 The analysis .....................................................................................................104 

5.3 On the phonological level.................................................................................105 

5.3.1 Verse Forms.............................................................................................105 

5.3.1.1 Çuarkî, the Northern Kurdish quatrain................................................105 

5.3.1.2 Methnawî – the Northern Kurdish couplet...........................................109 

5.3.1.3 Tercîa band ........................................................................................110 

5.3.1.4 Innovative form for rhymed verse.......................................................111 

5.3.2 Line syllable count ...................................................................................113 

5.3.3 Rhyme......................................................................................................118 

5.3.3.1 End rhyme..........................................................................................118 

5.3.3.1.1 True rhyme .................................................................................119 

5.3.3.1.2 Multisyllabic rhyme....................................................................119 

5.3.3.1.3 Multisyllabic rhyming sequence..................................................122 

5.3.3.1.4 Mosaic rhyme .............................................................................123 

5.3.3.1.5 Sound play..................................................................................124 

5.3.3.1.5.1 Consonant feature rhyme.......................................................125 

5.3.3.1.5.2 Vowel feature rhyme.............................................................126 

5.3.3.1.6 End rhyme without meter............................................................130 

5.3.3.2 End rhyme in final lines of a prose poem ............................................131 

5.3.3.3 Deviation from end rhyme ..................................................................132 

5.3.3.4 Head rhyme, internal rhyme and interlaced rhyme ..............................132 

5.4 On the syntactic level.......................................................................................136 

5.4.1.1 Constituent order ................................................................................136 

xix

5.4.1.1.1 Verb-Subject .............................................................................. 138 

5.4.1.1.2 Adjective Phrase/Noun Phrase-Copula-Subject........................... 141 

5.4.1.1.3 Subject-Verb-Object................................................................... 144 

5.4.1.1.4 Object-Subject-Verb................................................................... 150 

5.4.1.1.5 Object-Verb-Subject................................................................... 152 

5.4.1.1.6 Verb–Object imperative clauses without a declared subject ........ 152 

5.4.1.1.7 Position of non-verbal elements in complex verbs ...................... 154 

5.4.1.1.8 Adjective before noun ................................................................ 155 

5.4.1.1.9 Possessor before noun ................................................................ 156 

5.4.1.1.10 Number after noun...................................................................... 156 

5.4.1.1.11 Intentional end-rhyme dissimilarity ............................................ 157 

5.4.1.1.12 Use of a prepositional phrase in lieu of a possessive ezafe 

construction................................................................................ 158 

5.4.1.1.13 Word displacements ................................................................... 159 

5.4.1.2 Ellipsis............................................................................................... 160 

5.4.1.2.1 Ellipsis of anaphoric subject pronoun ......................................... 161 

5.4.1.2.2 Ellipsis of anaphoric object pronoun........................................... 162 

5.4.1.2.3 Ellipsis of anaphoric pronoun in a prepositional phrase............... 165 

5.4.1.2.4 Ellipsis of copula........................................................................ 167 

5.4.1.2.5 Ellipsis of ezafe conjunctive particle........................................... 168 

5.4.1.2.6 Ellipsis of oblique marker........................................................... 171 

5.4.1.2.7 Ellipsis of preposition................................................................. 173 

5.4.1.2.8 Ellipsis of irrealis aspect prefix, bi-............................................. 174 

5.4.1.3 Free variation..................................................................................... 174 

5.4.1.3.1 Use of alternate word forms for reaching syllable count.............. 175 

5.4.1.3.2 Use of alternate word forms for rhyming purposes...................... 179 

5.4.1.3.3 Use of alternate word forms to vary language ............................. 180 

5.4.1.3.4 Use of emphatic words ............................................................... 182 

5.4.1.3.5 Omission of conjunctions and relativizers................................... 183 

5.4.1.3.6 Placement of temporal adverbs ................................................... 186 

5.4.1.3.7 Placement of prepositional phrases ............................................. 188 

5.4.1.4 Constructional schemes...................................................................... 188 

5.4.1.4.1 Repetition and repetitional schemes............................................ 189 

5.4.1.4.2 Grammatical parallelism............................................................. 198 

5.4.1.4.3 Synthesis .................................................................................... 203 

5.4.1.4.4 Chiasmus.................................................................................... 204 

5.4.1.5 Neologisms ........................................................................................ 205 

5.4.1.6 Shortened phrases .............................................................................. 206 

5.5 Summary......................................................................................................... 207 

6. Application and concluding remarks.................................................................. 208 

6.1 My version of Allah, after Shushi’s input......................................................... 210 

xx

6.2 Shushi’s version of Allah .................................................................................216 

6.3 Concluding remarks .........................................................................................221 

Appendix A – The Corpus of Northern Kurdish Poems ..........................................224 

Appendix B – Interviews ...........................................................................................324 

REFERENCES ..........................................................................................................355 

VITA ..........................................................................................................................363 

xxi

List of Tables 

Table 1. Important works on Kurdish literary history................................................. 6 

Table 2. Themes of Northern Kurdish poetry........................................................... 48 

Table 3. Contractions............................................................................................... 60 

Table 4. Personal pronouns...................................................................................... 69 

Table 5. Forms of the ezafe conjunctive particle ...................................................... 71 

Table 6. Demonstratives. ......................................................................................... 75 

Table 7. Verb suffixes ............................................................................................. 79 

Table 8. Present tense irregular copulas ................................................................... 80 

Table 9. Conjugations of non-past copula b ............................................................. 81 

Table 10. Past tense copulas ...................................................................................... 82 

Table 11. Non-possessive existential verbs (Thackston 2006:31) ............................... 84 

Table 12. Irregular forms of hebû/heb in the present tense (Şirîn 2002:6) .................. 84 

Table 13. Past tense subjunctive constructions........................................................... 96 

Table 14. Perfect tense constructions ......................................................................... 98 

Table 15. Past perfect tense constructions.................................................................. 99 

Table 16. Common adpositions................................................................................ 102 

Table 17. Poems using çuarkî forms ........................................................................ 109 

Table 18. Rhyme scheme of stanzas in BS2............................................................. 112 

Table 19. Actual or average syllable counts. ............................................................ 113 

Table 20. Additional instances of multisyllabic rhyming sequence........................... 123 

Table 21. Orthographic consonant chart................................................................... 125 

Table 22. Deviations................................................................................................ 132 

Table 23. Pronoun ellipsis. ...................................................................................... 167 

xxii

List of Figures 

Figure 1. Meta-literature concerning a poem.................................................................27 

Figure 2. Northern Kurdish vowel chart......................................................................127 

Figure 3. IPA vowel chart...........................................................................................127 

xxiii

Abbreviations and Other Conventions 

Pronouns in Northern Kurdish 

gloss definition form 

1D first person, direct case, singular ez 

1DP first person, direct case, plural em 

1O first person, oblique case, singular min 

1OP first person, oblique case, plural me 

2D second person, direct case, singular tu 

2DP second person, direct case, plural hîn, hûn, hûîn 

2O second person, oblique case, singular te 

2OP second person, oblique case, plural we, hewe 

3D third person, direct case (singular or plural), far ew 

demonstrative 

3DN third person, direct case (singular or plural), near ev 

demonstrative 

3OF third person, oblique case, singular, feminine wê 

3OFN third person, oblique case, singular, feminine, near vê 

3OM third person, oblique case, singular, masculine wî 

3OMN third person, oblique case, singular, masculine, near vî 

3OP third person, oblique case, plural (or far 

wan 

demonstrative) 

3OPN third person, oblique case, plural, near van 

REFL reflexive xwe, xu, xwo 

xxiv

Prefixes, infixes, suffixes, particles: 

gloss definition 

1 first person 

2 second person 

3 third person 

ACT 

ADJP 

COP 

DEM 

DIR 

EMPH 

EZ 

EZ2 

F 

IMP 

IND 

INDF 

INF 

INTRG 

IPFV 

IRR 

EZP 

M 

NEG 

NP 

NUM 

OBL 

OPT 

active 

adjective phrase 

copula 

demonstrative 

directional enclitic 

emphatic marker 

ezafe conjunctive particle 

ezafe conjunctive particle for 

secondary constructs 

feminine 

imperative 

indicative 

indefinite 

infinitive 

interrogative 

imperfective 

irrealis 

ezafe phrase 

masculine 

negative 

noun phrase 

number 

oblique case marker 

optative 

xxv

PASS 

PL 

PPFT 

PRF 

QP 

passive 

plural 

past perfect 

perfect participle 

question particle 

xxvi

1. Introduction 

1.1 General 

The purpose of this thesis was to gather and analyze a corpus of Northern Kurdish 

poetry, discuss its poetic features, and apply what was learned to poetic translation. To 

date very little has been written about Kurdish poetry. This survey and analysis helps to 

fill the gap of knowledge about one literary art form of the Kurdish people and their rich 

cultural heritage. 

The corpus I collected primarily consists of poems written during the last sixty 

years 1 in the Northern Kurdish-speaking area of Northern Iraq. The language of this area 

is often referred to as Bahdini, 2 which comes from the name of the region where its 

speakers dwell, Badinan. One poet from the Kurdish area of Syria, Cegerxwîn, is also 

included because of his renown in Iraq and abroad. Translations are presented in 

Appendix A and interlinear translations, parsed according to Leipzig Glossing Rules 

(Bickel, Comrie and Haspelmath 2008), are provided wherever useful in the analysis. 

Chapter 2 surveys what has already been written on Kurdish and Kurdish-related 

poetry. It also discusses what scholars have written about the matter of translating poetry. 

Chapter 3 contains information gleaned from interviews about Kurdish poetry and the 

history surrounding its development. To help the reader delve into the language and the 

1 Some of Ahmed Nalbend’s poems are likely older. They were not formally published until 1998. 

2 I use the term Bahdini in this paper when I am distinguishing how a certain aspect of the spoken variety of 

Northern Kurdish in northern Iraq is or may be different from other varieties of Northern Kurdish. The 

language varies greatly over a large region and some speakers have difficulty understanding one another. 

1

2 

translations, I have provided a brief grammar sketch of Northern Kurdish in Chapter 4. 

Chapter 5 is the analysis of the corpus. In Chapter 6, I apply what has been learned from 

the analysis to the matter of translation. In the concluding remarks, I also raise questions 

concerning future study on the subject. 

1.2 Historical overview 

One popular myth about the Kurds’ beginning says that, “Centuries ago, Solomon 

threw 500 of the magical spirits called jinn out of his kingdom and exiled them to the 

mountains of the Zagros. These jinn first flew to Europe to select 500 beautiful virgins as 

their brides and then went to settle in what became known as Kurdistan” (Kahn 1980:xi). 

According to many historians, however, the Kurdish people are descendents of the 

Medes, who during the sixth century B.C. built an empire (Lawrence 2008:11). Whatever 

their beginnings, the Kurds are an ancient people who have lived in their homeland since 

before recorded history. 

After Mohammed’s death in 632 A.D, Abu Bakir, the first caliph, began his 

campaign against the Byzantines, Sassanians, and other ruling empires within the area of 

Mesopotamia. By 637 the Arab armies reached the Kurdish area. By 644 the Kurdish 

leaders, who had joined the Sassanian resistance, began succumbing to the new religion, 

Islam (McDowall 2005:21). 

At the start of the nineteenth century, the Ottoman and Safavid empires ruled the 

Kurdish area. Once Turkey was defeated in World War I, each non-Turkish minority 

expected to achieve statehood, as Woodrow Wilson’s “Programme of the World’s Peace” 

stated that each group should be “assured of an absolute unmolested opportunity of 

autonomous development” (Short and McDermott 1975:7). However, after the Treaty of 

Sèvres was signed in 1920 by the Sultan and the Allies, it was never affirmed by the 

Turkish National Assembly. The Treaty of Lausanne was signed in 1923 without the 

mention of an independent Kurdistan, and the international community has never again 

reevaluated the issue (Short and McDermott 1975:7).

3 

1.3 The people and the language 

Northern Kurdish is often called Kurmanjî. 3 The total number of speakers, 

including those residing outside the main Kurdish area, has been estimated to be between 

fifteen and seventeen million (Thackston 2006:vii, viii). However, due to a long history 

of political and socioeconomic upheaval, combined with a lack of research, a trustworthy 

estimate has yet to be determined. The largest group of speakers is found in an area that 

spans the borders of Turkey, Iraq, Syria and Iran. There are also pockets of Northern 

Kurdish speakers in other areas of Turkey, Iran as well as in Armenia, Azerbaijan, 

Georgia and Turkmenistan. 

Northern Kurdish is one of several languages that are considered to be Kurdish. 

Others include Sorani and even Dimili (or Zaza), which, according to Todd (2002:vi) and 

other scholars, is too distinct to be called Kurdish. Dimili speakers, however, identify 

themselves as being Kurdish (Todd 2002:vi). Speakers of Northern and Central Kurdish 

make up the larger portions of the population that identify themselves as being Kurdish; 

however, these are considered by scholars to be separate languages. It is not until a 

speaker of one of these languages is exposed to the other’s language for some time that 

there is any marked comprehension ability. Hence, the factors contributing to whether 

one considers oneself to be Kurdish depend not just on language but on psychological, 

social, cultural, economic and political factors (Hassanpour 1989:25). 

1.4 The sociolinguistic situation 

The peoples who have resided in Mesopotamia and its surrounding regions have 

long been influenced by societies that spoke different languages, had different customs, 

and practiced different religions. The brief historical sketch in § 1.2 provides only a few 

3 Other names for Northern Kurdish are as follows: In Iraq—Badinani, Bahdini, Behdini, Kirmancîa Jori, 

Kurmanji; in Turkey—Kermancî, Kirmancî, Kurdi, Kurdî, Kurmanji. There are a few other names used in 

Syria and Iran (Lewis 2011:458, 534). A myriad of dialect names are also used as reference for one’s 

speech type. Such names refer to the region or tribe one is from.

4 

highlights of the events that happened within this ‘cradle of civilization.’ In recorded 

history, we see that Kurds have likely had contact with Greeks, Romans, Persians, Arabs, 

Turks, and many others beside. So one can only imagine that the Kurdish worldview(s) 

must have been challenged throughout the centuries. 

The greatest influence on Northern Kurdish in Northern Iraq has been through 

contact with Arabic speakers. Decades before Saddam Hussein’s rise to power in the 

1970s, the medium of instruction for speakers of Northern Kurdish was predominantly in 

Arabic. Currently, although there is movement to purify the language, speakers of 

Northern Kurdish still use many Arabic loan words in both spoken and written language. 

Since the 1990s, schools in the Kurdish area have been free to use their mother tongue as 

the medium of instruction. In the Northern Kurdish area, students are also learning to 

read and write in the more widely spoken Kurdish language in Iraq, Central Kurdish, also 

known as Sorani. Much of the curriculum available is written only in Central Kurdish.

2. Literature review 

2.1 History of Kurdish and Kurdish-related poetry, with historical context 

Among Kurds there is no clear distinction between oral and written cultures. 

Historically, these cultures are intermingled, despite separation of literate elite from the 

larger illiterate class in society. Additionally, the language groups making up the Kurds 

borrow from one another and from other influential cultures, i.e. Arabic and Persian 

narratives. As well, some poets and writers have utilized oral ballads, traditional Kurdish 

stories, in their written compositions (e.g. Dimdim, Mem û Zîn, and Khaj û Siyamend) 

(Hassanpour 1996:50). 

Before the 20 th century, literature written by Kurds consisted mostly of poetry. 

Kurds predominately wrote in Arabic, Persian and Turkish, the nearby prestigious 

languages, rather than in their own language. The earliest Kurdish poetry so well 

reproduced that of Arabic and Persian poetry that it is safe to propose that such imitative 

styles were refined by the time of the earliest known poets. Folk poetry, such as song, 

was more prominent than literature in Kurdish society, and “Kurdish poetry and prose 

narratives were transmitted orally” (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

Throughout history wherever Kurds have resided, there have been social and 

political situations that have encumbered the development of Kurdish society and culture. 

To this day, a full record of Kurdish literature has not been produced (Shakely 2002). 

According to Shakely (2002), the list in Table 1 embodies the best of the works dealing 

with the history of Kurdish literature. 

5

6 

Table 1. 

Important works on Kurdish literary history 

Year Author Resource 

1860 August Jaba, 

Russian consul 

The Kurdish literature given by Mala Mahmûd Bayazîdî in 

Erzurûm, Turkey at the end of the 1850s. The texts were recorded 

and published by Jaba. 

1920 Amîn Fayzî Anjumanî Adîban (Assembly of Writers), Istanbul. This book 

describes in 147 pages the lives of some Kurdish poets with 

quotations from their poetry. 

1941 

& 

1956 

Rafîq Hilmî Shi’r û adabiatî Kurdî (Kurdish poetry and literature), Baghdad. 

Vol. I, 1941 and Vol. 2, 1956. This work is normally classified as 

literary criticism. However, it also includes historical materials, like 

biographical data and descriptions of periods in Kurdish literature. 

1952 Alaudîn Sajadî Mêzhûy Adabî Kurdî (Kurdish literary history), Baghdad. 2nd ed. 

1973. This has been one of the most important sources of Kurdish 

literary history to the present day. Apart from studies on 24 Kurdish 

poets, it also includes studies on Kurdish history, the tradition of the 

Kurdish epic, Kurdish mythology, Kurdish journalism and a series 

of comparative literary studies of old Egyptian, Persian, Chinese, 

Indian and Hebrew literature. 

1968 Dr. Izudîn 

Mustafa Rasûl 

Realism in Kurdish literature, Beirut. This is an Arabic translation 

of Dr. Rasûl’s Russian doctoral thesis, describing Kurdish literature 

from a Marxist point of view. 

1980 Sadiq Baha’ Udîn 

Amedî 

Hozanvanet Kurd (Kurdish poets), Baghdad. This book contains 

biography and poems by 19 Kurdish poets who wrote in the 

Northern Kurdish dialect. 

1983 Prof. Qenate 

Kurdoev 

Tarixa Edebiyeta Kurdî (Kurdish literary history), Stockholm. 2 

vol. This is similar to Sajadî’s Kurdish literary history.

7 

2.1.1 Before 1920 

The division of the Kurdish homeland continues to complicate the production of a 

comprehensive treatise on the history of Kurdish literature. There are still linguistic 

debates concerning the origin of the Kurdish language and the classification of its dialects 

and related languages. For example, most Kurdish literary critics and historians “agree 

that Kurdish art poetry began with Baba Tahir Hamadanî (935-1010)” (Shakely 2002). 

However, Hamadanî’s language was Lurî (or Lorî), which is regarded by European 

Orientalists to be a southwestern Iranian language (see 1.3), unlike Northern and Central 

Kurdish (Shakely 2002). 

2.1.1.1 The Botan school 

Most historians believe that Northern Kurdish poetry was established during the 

16 th century when war began between the Ottoman and Safavid Empires. After defeating 

the Safavids in the Chaldîran war in 1514, the Ottomans began to reinforce existing 

Kurdish principalities. They also founded new principalities in order to strengthen the 

border. The area of Botan, which lies in Turkey at the border of Iraq and Syria, was one 

of the more significant of the principalities. It was in Botan’s capital city, Cezîra, that the 

first school 4 of classical Kurdish poetry in the Northern Kurdish dialect developed. The 

leading representative of this school was Malayê Cezîrî who lived between 1570-1640 

(Shakely 2002), and who is considered by many to be the “father of Kurdish literature” 

(Kreyenbroek 1996:95). 

Cezîrî, like other early writers, was proficient in Arabic, Persian and Turkish 

(Blau 1996:21). While his syntax was Kurdish, he drew from his large lexicon of these 

other languages, as well. Much of his work consists of qashidas (longer odes) and 

ghazals (shorter lyric poems) (Kreyenbroek 2005). During this time, Classical Kurdish 

4 When the idea of a ‘poetic school’ is used, it is meant to refer to a group of people, including poets, who 

have a common belief about what good poetry should consist of.

8 

literature was greatly influenced by the imagery of the mystical sect in Islam called 

Sufism (Kreyenbroek 1996:95). Cezîrî’s poetry is also considered to be a “fine 

representative of classical oriental 5 poetry” (Shakely 2002). Shakely writes: 

His ties to this tradition are expressed through the strong Sufi elements 

and through the concept of love in his poetry. In his universe there are no 

clear borderlines between human and divine love. Thus the reader is often 

led to ask whether it was the love of God or the beautiful Selma (said to 

have been the daughter or the sister of the prince of Jezira [Cezîra]) which 

brought fire to the poet’s heart. (Shakely 2002) 

Romantic patriotism is also expressed in much of Cezîrî’s poetry, where the name 

Kurdistan appears frequently, and he wrote many of his poems in tribute to princes of 

Kurdistan. These elements make his poetry different from the court poetry written for 

non-Kurdish rulers in the area (Shakely 2002). During this time, court poets were hired 

by a ruler to produce poems that praised the ruler’s high position, decreeing his authority 

over an area (De Bruijn 2011). 

As mentioned, most of the early Kurdish literature was poetic. Kurdish prose, for 

the most part, did not develop until newspapers and magazines were created in the 20 th 

century (Blau 1996:23). Other great poets between the 15 th and 18 th centuries, such as 

‘Ali Harîrî (1425-90?), Faqî Tayran (1590-1660), Mala Ahmed Batayî, Selîm Silêman 

(16 th century), Ahmed Xanî (1651-1707), and Khanay Qubadî (1700-59), expressed the 

need for Kurdish linguistic freedom―for Kurds to write in their native tongue 

(Hassanpour 1996:49). Faqî Tayran, whose pen name means, ‘the bird’s jurist,’ is 

considered to be a disciple of Cezîrî. He, too, wrote qashidas and ghazals and is known 

as the first Kurdish poet to use the masnavî (couplet) form for a narrative poem 

(Kreyenbroek 2005). 

5 Shakely’s exact meaning of ‘oriental’ is unknown. It seems likely that he is referring to Middle Eastern 

and Indo-Iranian literature rather than Asian literature, which would encompass literature from the entire 

continent.

9 

The most revered poet among Kurds of Northern Kurdish is Ahmed Xanî. He was 

born around 1650 in the town of Khan in the Hakari province of southeastern Turkey, and 

most scholars believe that he died in 1707 in Bayazid, Turkey. While he played an active 

role in intellectual life, having established a Kurdish school of literature and worked to 

build unity in the society, he is best known as the “unrivalled pioneer of the Kurdish 

national ideology” (Saadalla 2008:11). 

When Xanî wrote his long romantic epic Mem û Zîn in 1694 (Shakely 2002), 

which seems to have been inspired by a Kurdish epic called Meme Alan (Kreyenbroek 

2005), he introduced into Kurdish society the idea of Kurdish nationalism (Hassanpour 

1996: 21). Xanî desired for the Kurds to have their own leader who had an appreciation 

for science, art and poetry, books and dîwan 6 (Shakely 2002). While Mem û Zîn is 

certainly a love story, Xanî addresses many other facets of society in the poem (Saadalla 

2008:10, 11). In an interview with the Kurdish Globe, Farhad Shakely (2002) stated: 

He not only told a most beautiful love story, but also expressed his own 

political and philosophical ideals and described the political, economic, 

social and cultural aspects of a very important period in Kurdish history. 

Concerning the methnawî (or masnavî) form of the poem, Hassanpour (1996:49) writes, 

“Although the poetic form is borrowed from Persian literature, the details of the plot, 

names, characters and setting are mostly Kurdish.” 7 In the preface to his English 

translation of the story, Salah Saadalla (2008:10) writes: 

The poetical story is more than a tragic Romeo and Juliet…The pages of 

the book are full of thoughts, often dominated by philosophy, particularly 

sufism, in which shades of meanings, double-meanings, metaphors, and 

symbolic expressions, play a major role, and require extra care in 

interpreting. 

6 Dîwan means ‘an anthology of poems’ (Chyet 2003:161). 

7 The story takes place in Cezîra, Turkey. Scholars have inferred that, due to the detailed descriptions of the 

geography of the city, Xanî must have lived in Cezîra at some point in his life (Saadalla 2008:10).

10 

In an early section of the poem, Xanî makes the first ever reference to Kurdish literature 

by mentioning the older poets Malaye Cezîrî, ‘Alî Hariri and Faqi Tayran. It would be 

another century before a more complete record would be made of Kurdish literature 

(Shakely 2002). 

In addition to Mem û Zîn, Xanî produced the first dictionary in Kurdish, called 

Nubara Biçûkan, ‘The Children’s First Fruits,’ an Arabic-Kurdish dictionary in verse. He 

also wrote lyrical poetry and a 73 bayt ‘line’ essay in verse about religion, called Aqîda 

Îman, ‘The Article of Faith’ (Shakely 2002). 

2.1.1.2 The Goran school 

There were two other important schools of Kurdish poetry that developed in other 

Kurdish principalities, the Goran school and the Nalî school (Shakely 2002). In the 16 th 

century, the Ardalan (or Erdalan) family, who resided in the Persian province with the 

same name, gained a measure of independence from the Safavids. During this time they 

used their newfound liberty to support literacy. This encouraged the development of 

written literature in their language, known as Goranî, or Hawramî, 8 which is of the 

Southern Kurdish classification of languages (Kreyenbroek 2005). During the 17 th and 

18 th centuries, some religious leaders pioneered the use of Kurdish as a medium of 

instruction in mosque schools. Poets, however, did not consider literacy an end goal; “For 

them a literate tradition, together with statehood, were hallmarks of a civilised and 

sovereign people” (Hassanpour 1996:49). 

The Goran 9 (or Hawramî) school of Classical Kurdish poetry reached its climax in 

the Ardalan Province. The school established standards throughout the region and beyond 

8 The origins of Hawramî differ from those of Kurdish, but many regard it as a Kurdish dialect, perhaps due 

mostly to a certain percentage of lexical cognates. The syntax, however, is different from Northern and 

Central Kurdish. 

9 Goran, or Goranî, is usually used as an umbrella term for Southern Kurdish languages. Hawrami, on the 

other hand, is the name of a specific language of Southern Kurdish.

11 

(Shakely 2002). According to MacKenzie (1965), Goranî poetry was not influenced by 

early Northern Kurdish poetry but by local Persian poetic traditions. Poets used 

decasyllabic meter with a caesura between two rhyming hemistiches, 10 which were 

commonly found in the folk poetry in the area. 

When the Ardalan family fell from power in 1845, Persian replaced Goranî as the 

court language, eventually bringing an end to the Goranî school. Since that time, writers 

increasingly used languages other than Goranî in literature (Blau 1996:21). Some of the 

more famous poets from the Goran School era were Khanay Qubadî (1700-1759), 

Besaranî (1641-1702), Mawlawî (1806-1882) and Ahmad Bagî Komasî. 

Mawlawî―along with Melayê Cezîrî (discussed in 2.1.1.1) and Mahwî (1830-1909) 

(discussed in 2.1.1.3)―is considered one of the three greatest Sufi poets in Kurdish 

history (Shakely 2002). 

2.1.1.3 The Nali school 

In modern day Iraq, on the west side of the Zagros Mountains, another school of 

classical poetry was established in the area of Baban. Eventually it was referred to as the 

Nali school (Kreyenbroek 2005). In 1784, Ibrahim, the Prince of Baban, established 

Sulêmaniya as the capital of the province. At this time, the literary language was a 

Southern Kurdish dialect (Shakely 2002). When ‘Abd al-Rahman Pasha Baban (1789- 

1802) succeeded Ibrahim Pasha in 1789, he advocated the use of the language of 

Sulêmaniya, later to be called Sorani, for poetry and music―in lieu of Goranî. And he 

designated Sulêmaniye the cultural center for the area (Blau 1996:22). 

The founder of the Nali school was the poet Nali, whose real name was Malla 

Kedri Ahmad Shaweysi Mika’ili (1800-1856) (Kreyenbroek 2005). Some of the other 

revered poets of this time are Salim (1800-1866), Kurdî (1800-1866), Hajî Qadir Koyî 

(1817-1897), Sheikh Raza Talabanî (1836-1910), Wafayî (1836-1892), Adab (1862- 

10 According to Turco (2000: 22), a caesura is a brief hesitation between two parts of a line, the two 

hemistiches.

12 

1917), and Mahwî (1830-1909). We can see by these later dates that Classical Kurdish 

poetry continued into the 20 th century (Shakely 2002). Nali used Perso-Arabic poetic 

forms, such as the qashida and ghazal. Until that time they were not part of the literary 

tradition of the area. Nalî, who is renowned for his lyrical poetry, also wrote mystical 

verse and poems praising rulers (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

Many poets left the city of Sulêmaniya after the Baban dynasty was conquered in 

1851 (Kreyenbroek 2005). However, the Sorani literary tradition continued to develop in 

the 19 th century. But while there were some great poets during this period, and many 

literary works were written, the culture remained largely oral. Literacy was 

predominantly found among the clergy and the social elite. Hassanpour writes, 

“According to one study, 68.5 percent of the poets who lived until 1917 came from the 

clerical group, while the feudal class accounted for 20 percent” (Hassanpour 1996:50). 

Like Xanî, Haji Qadirî Koyî (ca. 1816-94), a great poet from this era, heralded the 

notion “that Kurds could achieve sovereignty only if they possessed both a literate 

tradition, the pen, and state power, the sword” (Hassanpour 1996:49). Speaking to his 

own people, he writes: 

Do not say, “The Kurdish language does not attain the purity of Persian.” 

It possesses an eloquence that reaches unequalled heights, 

but lack of solidarity among Kurds 

has debased its value and price. (Blau and Suleiman 1996:156) 

Koyî wanted his people to become literate and enlightened to the world around them. 

While Xanî and Koyî emphasized the need for a literate tradition, both poets valued the 

oral traditions of their people, borrowing from oral literature as opposed to those 

available in Arabic and Farsi literature (Hassanpour 1996:49). Koyî left Kurdistan for 

Istanbul, Turkey where he became familiar with Northern Kurdish and its literature. 

While there he also became familiar with foreign ideas. Many of his poems, thus, deal 

with his critique of society and traditional ways (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

Sheikh Razay Talabanî, another poet from the Nali school, is considered to have 

introduced satire to Kurdish poetry (Kreyenbroek 2005). Shakely (2002) writes:

13 

He was a severe social critic, revealing in his poems many injustices, 

weaknesses and faults in society. His language is exuberant and powerful, 

the images sharp and poignant to the smallest detail. 

Another Nali school poet, Mahwî (1830-1909), is counted as another of the three great 

Kurdish Sufi poets. His works are considered among the best of classical oriental poetry 

for both form and content (Shakely 2002). 

2.1.1.4 Early publication 

The first texts printed in Kurdish were the dîwan, ‘collection of poems,’ written 

by Mawlana Khalid (1777-1826). He was the leader of the Naqshbandi, a Sufi religious 

order. The book, printed in 1844 (Nerîman 1977:14), consists mostly of poems in Arabic 

and Persian, but contains a few in the Hawramî dialect (Hassanpour 1996:61). The first 

periodical in Kurdish was published on April 22, 1898. Named Kurdistan, it was a 

bilingual Kurdish-Ottoman newspaper (Blau and Suleiman 1996:157). Miqdad Midhat 

Badir Khan wrote these challenging words in its first issue: 

Today, whatever happens in the world is reported in newspapers from 

which we learn a great deal. Unfortunately, the Kurds – brave and 

intelligent though they are – live without knowing what is going on in our 

planet. I am publishing this paper to inform you of the development of 

events in the world and to encourage you to read and write Kurdish. (Blau 

and Suleiman 1996:157) 

Between 1898 and 1902, thirty-one issues were printed, and publication was expanded to 

Geneva, London and Folkestone. Eventually, minority peoples in Turkey responded 

enough to the restrictive governance of Sultan Abdul-Hamid that in 1908 he was 

constrained to bring about constitutional reform, which granted various people groups 

(not just Kurds) greater political and cultural rights. One result of this reform was the 

publication of many other new Kurdish newspapers and magazines (Shakely 2002). 

2.1.2 1920-1960 

Prior to World War I, some Kurdish journalism was permitted, but “Kurdish 

literature had been restricted to poetry and some prose, little of which had been

14 

published” (Blau and Suleiman 1996:157). Since that time, we can distinguish three 

periods in the development of Kurdish literature: 1920-1960, 1960-1980, and 1980 to 

present day (Blau 1996:22). 

In the years that followed, the use of the press was a key component in the 

development of the Kurdish and Kurdish-related languages. “The development of the 

Kurdish language and the Kurds’ literary productivity within the Middle East have since 

depended on how much freedom each of those four states [i.e. Turkey, Iraq, Iran and 

Syria] has been willing to grant their Kurdish minority” (Blau 1996:23, brackets mine). 

In 1924, Mustefa Kemal of Turkey decreed Kurdish was not permitted to be used in 

schools, associations or publications. “Later governments followed the same policy of 

forced assimilation of the Kurds” (Blau and Suleiman 1996:158). 

The new borders that were drawn gave half of the Kurdish area to the Turkish 

state. The other parts were divided among Iran and the two Arab states, Iraq and Syria. A 

smaller portion of Kurdistan had already become part of the Soviet Union. A portion of 

that area has since become part of the Armenian Republic. Shakely (2002) writes: 

The Kurdish intelligentsia who had been working for the cultural and 

political Kurdish movement in the Ottoman Empire now settled in South 

Kurdistan. With them they brought several valuable years of experience 

and knowledge from their time spent in Istanbul. Among these 

intellectuals, who originally came from all over Kurdistan, and who now 

began to play an important role in the cultural life in South Kurdistan, 

were Tawfiq Wahby (1891-1984), Pîramerd (the pen name of Hamî 

Tawjiq, 1867-1950), Rafiq Hilmi (1898-1960) and Muhammad Amîn Zakî 

(1880-1948). 

These are the conditions under which Kurdish poetry developed. The sociopolitical 

situation in each country where Kurdish and Kurdish-related people reside has 

differed since the division of the Kurdish area. Hence, any discussion of the development 

of Kurdish poetry is limited to those periods of time when Kurds have had basic 

freedoms for written expression. In Iraq, there is the additional factor of having two main 

language groups, Northern Kurdish and Central Kurdish. These groups are not just 

geographically separated, but language differences are enough that one group’s 

development in poetry did not necessarily influence the other (Shakely 2002).

15 

Kurdish intellectuals in Turkey lived their lives in exile, many moving to Syria, 

where Kurds experienced a period of freedom under the French Mandate, between the 

two world wars (Blau 1996:24). Northern Kurdish literature developed greatly during this 

time when “Damascus and Beirut became centers for Kurdish intellectual activity” 

(Kreyenbroek 2005). Also during this time, the brothers Jeladet Bedir Khan (1893-1961) 

and Kamiran Bedir Khan (1895-1978) developed a Kurdish orthography in Latin script, 

which remains in use today. The Hawar school, 11 an intellectual center the brothers were 

a part of, included Cegerxwîn (1903-1984), the pen name of Şêxmûs Hesen, Qadrîcan 

(1914-1974), Reşîd Kurd (1910-68), and Nûredîn Zaza (1919-1988) (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

However, after Syria gained independence following the Second World War, “literary 

productivity came to an end” (Blau 1996:24) because Kurds lost the freedoms they had 

previously gained. Once again, intellectuals fled and published from abroad (Blau 

1996:24). Many of those associated with the Hawar school left to continue their activities 

in Paris (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

Cegerxwîn, who wrote in the Northern Kurdish dialect, had a profound influence 

on Turkish and Syrian Kurds, such that some call the time of his writing the Cegerxwîn 

period. Shakely (2002) writes, “Cegerxwîn took good care of the old heritage from 

Classical poets like Cezîrî and Ahmed Xanî. His poetry is simple and revolutionary with 

a strong popular appeal often at the expense of the aesthetic.” Because of his political 

convictions, Cegerxwîn―along with two other very popular poets at the time, Hazhar 

(1920-1991), penname for Abdurrahman Sharafkandî, and Hemin Mukriyani (1921- 

1986)―had to live out much of his life in exile (Shakely 2002). 

Kurds in Iraq experienced a limited degree of cultural freedom under the British 

Mandate (1920-1932). During the 1920s Iraq became the center of Kurdish cultural life, 

and it has continued to develop since that time. As Kurds made contact with the west, 

emerging from their isolated existence, poetry began to transform from its classical style 

11 It seems that the Hawar school was named after a magazine, Hawar, that was published during this 

period.

16 

(Blau 1996:22-3). Goran, 12 whose real name was Abdullah Sulayman (1904-1962), was 

the first poet from the Sorani-speaking area to break with tradition, writing with stress 

rhythms which were closer to oral folk styles (Blau 1996:22-3). According to Shakely 

(2002), Goran “brought about a revolution in Kurdish poetry” and is called “the father of 

Kurdish modernism.” Up until this time, Kurdish poetry had been shaped by centuries of 

poetry of other cultures, particularly Arabic. Goran based his poetry on Kurdish identity 

and themes. He used old Kurdish folksong patterns for meter and form instead of, for 

example, using Arabic meter. He also purposefully used Central Kurdish in lieu of Arabic 

or other languages. Goran, like many 20 th century Kurdish poets, went through various 

periods in his own work, beginning with a classical period. In his latter years, he wrote in 

free verse 13 (Shakely 2002). 

During this time other poets in the Sorani-speaking area began publishing free 

verse and prose poetry, 14 addressing social and political concerns (Blau 1996:23). Some 

of the popular poets from this period are: Salem (1892-1959), the penname of Sheikh 

Salem Ahmad Azabanî, Delzar (b. 1920) the penname of Ahmad Mostafa Hama Aga, 

Bekas (1905-1948) the penname of Fakî ‘Abd-Allah, and his son Şêrko Bêkas (b. 1940), 

Kamran Mokrî (1929-1989), and Kakay Fallah (b. 1928) (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

12 The poet Goran should not be confused with the Goran school of poetry. The source of Goran’s penname 

is unknown. Perhaps his heritage was Goranî (or Hawrami), as he was born in Halebja, which was largely 

Hawrami at the time. His poetry, however, is written in Soranî, the central Kurdish language. No resource 

states whether or not he knew the Hawrami language. 

13 Shakely does not define his meaning of “free verse.” Turco (2000), taking issue with the term free verse, 

prefers to use the term prose poetry to define poetry that does not adhere to syllabic count and meter. 

Since the term “verse” is defined as “metered language,” the term free verse is an oxymoron, as “free” 

implies “unmetered.” Turco (2000) also writes, “Amy Lowell (1874-1925) called prose poetry that utilized 

many poetry sonic devices polyphonic prose rather than free verse. 

14 Blau used the terms free verse and prose to describe the new poetry of this period. However, we are not 

told how they differ. As mentioned in the previous footnote, the terms are often considered synonymous. 

Not knowing how the various people who are cited in this paper would define the term “free verse,” the 

terms prose and free verse are to be considered synonymous throughout the paper.

17 

The publication of magazines in Kurdish also appeared during this period, 

supporting the growing desire of Kurds to write poetic and narrative essays, short stories 

and historical fiction in their own language. In spite of many great hardships, Kurdish 

literature thrived during this period (Blau 1996:23). As Blau (1996:23) writes, “The 

subject matter of the new writing developed dynamically to deal with social concerns 

such as women’s issues, education and the family, or the struggle against injustice and 

the exploitation of peasants.” 

The new Iranian regime employed a policy similar to that of Turkey and forbade 

all publications in Kurdish. There was, however, a short time of freedom for Kurdish 

literature, from December 1945- December 1946, after the Republic of Kurdistan (also 

known as the Republic of Mahabad) was formed in December of 1945. “Kurdish writers 

and poets were honored and Kurdish became the official language within the republic” 

(Blau 1996:24). During this time a daily newspaper was published as well as a monthly 

magazine, textbooks, and a children’s periodical. After its demise, many intellectuals 

fled, mostly to Iraq (Blau 1996:24). 

2.1.3 1960-1980 

In Turkey, the new constitution of 1961 provided Kurds some freedoms which 

allowed Kurds to explore their Kurdish identity. Over a period of seven years, some 

collections of Turkish and Kurdish literature were produced, including Mûsa Anter’s 

(1920-1992) Birîna Reş, ‘The Black Wound’ (1965). Anter was sent to prison for several 

years for his publications and was eventually killed in Diyarbakir in 1992. In 1968 Xanî’s 

( 2.1.1.1) Mem û Zîn was translated into Turkish by M. Emîn Bozarslan, who was 

imprisoned for publishing the book. From 1967 on, “no significant works” in Kurdish 

were published in Turkey until the 1990s (Kreyenbroek 2005). 

In Iraq, the 1960s were filled with changes in government policies that stripped 

Kurdish liberties. All publications in Kurdish were banned, and the rest of the decade was 

filled with fighting and times of ceasefire and truce. Not until the 1970s did Kurds in Iraq 

once again experience freedom that allowed for personal expression. It was during this

18 

time that intellectuals “rediscovered their Kurdish identity,” after a long period of being 

affected by Arab society (Blau 1996:24-5). However, soon after Baghdad declared war 

against the Kurds in March of 1974, many intellectuals, including writers and poets, 

joined the movement against the central government (Hassanpour 1996:55). A period of 

freedom was again cut short and literary life for Kurds in Iraq halted in the midst of 

Kurdish uprisings and perilous wars―wars that wasted much of the Kurdish area. During 

this time, the regime in Turkey occasionally permitted use of the Kurdish language; 

however, they, too, continued to deny Kurdish people many basic civil rights (Blau 

1996:24-5). 

2.1.4 1980 to present day 

During the 1980s many intellectuals in Turkey chose exile and found their way to 

Europe and other western countries, where they experienced their greatest freedom of 

expression. Kurdish literature had been forbidden in Turkey and Syria for decades, but 

now it was able to develop from afar. The greatest “renaissance” in Northern Kurdish 

literature came via the support of the government of Sweden which assisted Kurdish 

residents who came to them for refuge. With a large publishing budget provided by the 

Swedish authorities, literary creativity blossomed among writers, poets and journalists 

(Blau 1996:25-6). According to Blau (1996:25), more than 300 books in Northern 

Kurdish have been published in Sweden. 

Meanwhile, in countries like Iran, Kurdish books are greatly scrutinized and 

censored, if published at all. As of the mid-1990s, there were no newspapers being 

published and Kurdish was not being used as the medium of instruction in schools. It is 

difficult to assess the present day situation of Iranian Kurds (Blau 1996:25-6). 

In Iraq, freedom of expression has developed greatly since the establishment of a 

no-fly zone in the north of the country in 1991. The Kurdish area continues to develop 

and remains a haven for speakers of both Northern and Central Kurdish, and there is 

much activity in all forms of literature, within the bounds that are permitted by the semiautonomous 

Kurdish government.

19 

2.2 On translating poetry 

The opinions and attitudes concerning the translation of poetry vary widely, from 

it cannot be done and therefore should be left alone to the opposite extreme, it is possible 

and should be done. Most scholars minimally agree that a translation of a poem is never 

truly a translation. It can never be to a reader what the original poem was to the original 

audience. Raffel (1988:12-13) states that “no two languages” are the same 

phonologically, syntactically or lexically. Neither do any two languages have “the same 

literary history,” nor the same prosody. He writes, “the impossibility of exact re-creation 

does not preclude the very real possibility of approximation – and it is precisely on 

approximation that good translation of poetry must be built” (Raffel 1988:12-13). While 

Lewes agrees that translation of poetry is approximation, he expresses a more doubtful 

opinion as to its success in his autobiography The Life of Goethe: 

Several times in these pages I have felt called upon to protest against the 

adequacy of all translation of poetry. In its happiest efforts, translation is 

but approximation: and its efforts are not often happy. A translation may 

be good as translation, but it cannot be an adequate reproduction of the 

original. It may be a good poem; it may be a good imitation of another 

poem; it may be better than the original; but it cannot be an adequate 

reproduction; it cannot be the same thing in another language, producing 

the same effect on the mind. And the cause lies deep in the nature of 

poetry…The meanings of a poem and the meanings of the individual 

words may be reproduced; but in a poem meaning and form are as 

indissoluble as soul and body; and the form cannot be reproduced. The 

effect of poetry is a compound of music and suggestion; this music and 

this suggestion are intermingled in words, to alter which is to alter the 

effect. For words in poetry are not, as in prose, simple representations of 

objects and ideas: they are parts of an organic whole – they are tones in 

the harmony; substitute other parts, and the result is a monstrosity, as if an 

arm were substituted for a wing; substitute other tones or semitones, and 

you produce a discord. Words have their music and their shades of 

meaning too delicate for accurate reproduction in any other form; the 

suggestiveness of one word cannot be conveyed by another. Now all 

translation is of necessity a substitution of one word for another: the 

substitute may express the meaning, but it cannot accurately reproduce the 

music, nor those precise shades of suggestiveness on which the delicacy 

and beauty of the original depend. (Lewes 1864:466)

20 

To the contrary, Schlegel (1992:31), in his praise of Christoph Martin Wieland’s 

translation of the works of Shakespeare, expresses his appreciation in many ways―even 

though it was a prose translation. Before Wieland, a German poet and writer, theatres in 

Germany largely modeled their productions after the French. The introduction of 

Shakespeare seems to have had a shocking, but valued, effect on German society. 

Schlegel (1992:31) writes: 

Who would have dared to imagine then that such pagan, unruly, and 

barbaric plays ascribed by obscure rumor to an Englishman, a certain 

William Shakespeare, would even have been allowed to be shown before 

our eyes? 

He praises Wieland’s translation further in saying that Germans “would be able to learn 

from it for a long time before they would need a new one, even if the translation they had 

was not perfect” (1796/1992:31). Agreeing about the importance of Wieland’s work, The 

Cambridge History of English and American Literature (Ward and Trent, et al. 2000:23) 

says that: 

Compared with what had preceded it in Germany…it was an achievement 

no less great than Le Tourneur’s French translation at a somewhat later 

date. And, in one respect, no subsequent translation could vie with 

Wieland’s, namely, in its immediate influence upon German literature. 

Later in his commentary, Schlegel (1992:32) writes that Wieland provided a 

translation that was complete, faithful and good, and he states that it allowed people to 

say, “We had to have that much to be able to wish for more.” Concerning his hope for a 

future poetic translation, he writes: 

If it were possible to recreate his work faithfully and poetically at the same 

time, if it were possible to follow the letter of his meaning step by step and 

yet to capture some of the innumerable, indescribable marvels that do not 

reside in the letter, but float above it like a break of spirit! It would be well 

worth the effort. (Schlegel 1992:32) 

Schlegel’s statement―that Wieland’s translation would be useful for learning―conveys 

one of primary reasons why people continue to perform the arduous task of translating 

poetry. A society has much to gain from the insights that translation of poetry, and

21 

literature in general, can provide. And Schlegel’s last statement speaks to another layer of 

translating poetry―that is, translating into verse. 

In the sections that follow, I discuss factors the would-be translator of poetry must 

consider for carrying out the task with some success. The information is also of great 

value to the reader of poetry. In § 2.2.4, I introduce some specific models of James S. 

Holmes (1988) and Boerger (1997) that are very helpful for making translation decisions. 

2.2.1 The translator as reader 

In his book Factors in a Theory of Poetic Translating (1978:25-35), Robert De 

Beaugrande tells us that the metapoet 15 ―that is, the translator of a poem into 

verse―must astutely perform the function of reading. Mistakes in a translation of poetry 

more likely occur, not because of the metapoet’s inability to write well, but from his or 

her reading of the poem. He writes, “The basis of the act of translation is not the original 

text, but rather the representation of the text that is eventually generated in the 

translator’s mind” (De Beaugrande 1978:25). 

The metapoet, like the reader of the metapoem, brings a lifetime of experiences 

which create expectations when interacting with a text. The mental processing of text is 

limited by these experiences and is carried out amid the general knowledge of the reader, 

his or her beliefs, presuppositions and priorities. De Beaugrande (1978:26) says that the 

“mental representation of the text that finally is registered in the translator’s mind is not 

identical with the original text.” Hence, the translation, even before it is produced, may 

already be flawed by means of incorrect interpretation―the additions, deletions, 

alterations and substitutions produced within the mind of the translator. The end product 

will be a misrepresentation of the original to the degree that the original has been 

misinterpreted. This understanding is affirmed by Wendland (2002b:183-84) in the 

following statements: 

15 The term “metapoet” is used to express that a translator of a poem into verse is also a poet. But the 

product, not being a true translation, is an approximation of the original―a metapoem.

22 

The most important element of the extralinguistic setting of any 

communication event is of course the intended audience or readership. 

Past translation theory and practice have usually noted the importance of 

this human component, but often in [a] unilateral sort of way. That is to 

say, the act of communication is viewed as a message transmission in one 

direction, where the author or translator contributes more or less 

everything, and the audience simply “receives” the text, interprets it, and 

then decides how to respond. Recent studies have shown that this is not 

the case at all — that communication is truly a “shared” process, where an 

audience brings to a text their own distinct expectations, values, norms, 

biases, experience, perspectives, and cognitive framework, all of which 

greatly influence — either to foil or to facilitate — the “message” that 

they perceive, understand, and ultimately react to. 

The metapoet should therefore have a thorough understanding of the reading process, 

remaining consciously aware of the reader-supplied information he or she is bringing into 

the reading of the poem. Such will not just aid in the proper interpretation of a poem but 

will also help in the process of translation, as he or she identifies the expectations of the 

audience of the metapoem. 

One key task of the metapoet is to ascertain the theme of the text, as well as its 

thematic shifts, so that these, too, can be effectively reproduced in the metapoem. 

Perception of a theme is what allows the reader to adequately process a text. Once a 

theme is perceived, the mind of the reader can reduce “the possibilities of meanings and 

hence the work of sorting out potential ambiguities” (De Beaugrande 1978:74). When the 

theme eludes a reader, or if there are unexpected thematic alterations, processing of the 

text slows down. If the textual processing becomes too slow, the metapoet risks losing the 

reader’s interest. According to De Beaugrande (1978:74), “most writers of informative 

texts make the theme clear at an early point and alert readers to shifts of theme and to the 

relationships of new themes to what has gone before.” 

However, readers may become troubled when encountering more than one 

interpretation for a text, since reader-supplied information from their life experiences 

contribute to the interpretation of a text from the outset. As text-supplied information is 

processed, the reader progresses toward relying more on such information for interpreting 

the text, and less on reader-supplied information. In light of this, the metapoet must know

23 

his audience and their cognitive processing abilities and expectations. De Beaugrande 

(1978:88) writes, “Only if the reading process is consistently pursued to the point where 

the interpretation is maximally dominated by text-supplied information can a truly 

objective translation be produced, that is, a translation which validly represents the 

perceptual potential of the original” (author’s italics). Differences in reader-supplied 

information may likely be the reason for the variation in translations of the same poem. It 

may explain why “two translators seldom arrive at the same translation, and why literary 

critics disagree so often” (De Beaugrande 1978:26). 

2.2.2 Qualifications of a metapoet 

According to Raffel (1991:88), the translator of poetry will ideally meet the 

following prerequisites: 

(1) The translator must have an extensive awareness of the poetic 

tradition in the language into which he is translating. 

(2) The translator should have a fairly considerable awareness of the 

poetic tradition in the language from which he is translating. 

(3) The translator must have high-order poetic skills in the language into 

which he is translating: bluntly, the translator of poetry must himself be a 

poet. (author’s italics) 

However, Holmes (1988:11) asserts that the metapoet requires other specific skills and 

that he or she does not necessarily need be a poet. He writes: 

In order to create a verbal object of the metapoetic kind, one must perform 

some (but not all) of the functions of a critic, some (but not all) of the 

functions of a poet, and some functions not normally required of either a 

poet or critic…Linking together these two activities, the critical and the 

poetic, is an activity which is uniquely the metapoet’s: the activity of 

organizing and resolving a confrontation between the norms and 

conventions of one linguistic system, literary tradition, and poetic 

sensibility, as embodied in the original poem as he has analysed it, and the 

norms and conventions of another linguistic system, literary tradition, and 

poetic sensibility to be drawn on for the metapoem he hopes to create.

24 

Rydning (1992) 16 has written about issues that arise when translating into one’s 

second (B) language. Concerning the translation of literary work by someone who’s 

language abilities are anything less than those of a native speaker, Rydning (1992:16-17) 

writes: 

The potential range of stylistic effects in a literary work is at best 

extraordinarily vast, if not limitless: alliterations, rhymes, rhythmical 

elements, metaphors, anagrams, word plays, each seen as a challenge by 

translators who must ensure for their own readers the affective impact 

intended by the author of the original, by means of stylistic procedures 

which are true to the target language. The success of this difficult task is 

closely linked to the translator’s skill, a skill which demands aesthetic 

talent, literary competence and an affinity with the author of the literary 

text. (translated) 

Lederer tells us that Rydning chose to include only functional (non-literary) texts in her 

research on translation into one’s B language, leaving out literary translation. Lederer 

(2003:160), however, feels that concerning literary work, only poetry should be left out 

of such a study. She states that “it is accepted that poetry in translation is of no value if it 

does not touch a chord in the reader as much as the original does and that the writing 

skills needed depend on the intuition of a native speaker.” Her final statement affirms the 

commonly held belief that the best translators will be native speakers of the receptor 

language. This seems to be especially true when it comes to the translation of poetry. 

2.2.3 Non-ordinary language of poetry 

As early as Aristotle, poetic language has been viewed as language that deviated 

from common discourse. In addition to processing the theme and thematic shifts, 

mentioned above, non-ordinary language also slows the textual processing of the reader. 

Comparing ordinary “prose,” and non-ordinary “verse,” language, Holmes (1988:9) 

writes: 

To put it another way: when we read prose we have an inclination to 

expect a single, precise over-all message, unambiguous in meaning, and in 

16 As cited in Lederer (2003:160).

25 

trying to grasp that meaning we will strive to attribute to each semantic 

unit one single significance that seems most obvious or most logical in the 

context; when we read verse, however, the form itself serves as a signal to 

us that our minds should remain open to ambiguities at every rank, and 

even once we have chosen one specific signification 17 of a word, a line, a 

stanza, or an entire poem as the chief surface signification, we do not 

reject other possible significations out of hand, but hold them in abeyance, 

as so many further elements in the highly intricate communication which 

we expect a poem to be. In this most complex of all linguistic structures, a 

whole range of significations, and not simply the signification most 

obvious or most logical, fuse to create the total ‘meaning’ and the total 

effect. 

Coping with all of the extra significations, and keeping track of potential significations, 

can become burdensome for the reader. To understand significations, or “markers,” De 

Beaugrande (1978:17), citing Petöfi (1969), defines two relevant terms for understanding 

reader expectations when processing a text. The first, co-text, is to be understood as 

“combinations of items within a text.” The second term, context, includes “co-text plus 

the factors relevant to the use of the text by writer and reader.” Often it is when a word 

appears in conjunction with another word or words, or co-textually, that the meaning is 

understood. Sometimes it is the context, not the co-text alone, that helps a reader 

understand the intended meaning. With regard to the reader’s textual processing of 

available meanings for words, De Beaugrande (1978:39) writes, 

It is more probable that the meaning potential of words is automatically 

reduced somewhat as soon as a context and a topic are established in a 

particular situation, and that this reduction controls the expectations of 

both the sender and the recipient of a message within the situation. 

The reader is even more challenged by the processing of non-literal language, 

particularly metaphor. Petöfi (1975:290) defines metaphor as “an interpretable stretch of 

text in a contradeterminate context.” The reader’s expectations are not met when 

confronted with a metaphor. However, he or she possesses the mental faculties to make 

necessary connections between words, therein discovering the meaning being conveyed. 

17 “Using the term ‘signification’ in its largest sense, to include not only the semantic function of a 

linguistic unit, but also its other functions (acoustic, rhythmic, etc.) within the poem” (Holmes 1988:18).

26 

At least, this should have been the goal of the poet―the reader’s recoverability of the 

interpretation of the metaphor. If the poet has not allowed for this, he or she may have 

written with lofty expectations of the reader (De Beaugrande 1978:67). 

2.2.4 Models for making translation decisions 

Holmes (1988) provides some models that are very useful in understanding the 

decisions a translator makes in producing meta-literature concerning a poem. In § 2.2.4.1 

and § 2.2.4.2, I discuss each model and elaborate on some important details. In § 2.2.4.3, I 

present ten principles of Boerger (1997) that address the need for both accuracy and 

poetic artistry in the translation of poetry. 

2.2.4.1 Holmes’ meta-literature model―types of interpretation and types of poetry 

The first model, shown in Figure 1, 18 shows a comparison of two disciplines that 

are carried out with regard to a poem, the writing of interpretation and the writing of 

poetry. Seven types of meta-literature―that is, the types of things a writer can produce 

with regard to a poem―are listed according to the number and/or degree of constraints 

experienced in producing them. Each discipline represents a scale where on one end there 

is complete freedom. As one moves further toward the middle, the number and/or degree 

of constraints increase. 

18 The model in Holmes’ text (1988:24) is laid out differently from the model in Figure 1. However, the 

content and use of the models are equal.

27 

INTERPRETATION 

POETRY 

Critical essay in language of poem 

Critical essay in another language 

Prose translation 

Verse translation (metapoem) 

Imitation 

Poem ‘about’ poem 

Poem inspired by a poem 

P 

O 

E 

M 

Figure 1. Meta-literature concerning a poem 

At the top end of the interpretation scale is the critical essay in the language of 

poem. In such an essay the critic has complete freedom to bring extraneous information 

into his or her interpretation. Additionally, the critic may write as much as desired to 

express his or her interpretation of a poem, and such writing does not require any 

translation of terms in the poem. Next down the scale is the critical essay in another 

language. The writer of this critique begins to experience some constraints. While the 

essay may still be written as long as is desired, this writer must contend with the task of 

translation, finding terms suitable for terms in the original text. However, this critic may 

still draw from extraneous sources. The next degree of constraints is found in the prose 

translation. Here the writer must limit his or her interpretation to the words of the poem 

itself, leaving extraneous information behind. The length of the product is therefore 

limited. The prose product is still not a poem. Last on the interpretation scale is the verse 

translation, or metapoem, which is the point at which interpretation and poetry scales 

intersect. It is in the production of a metapoem that the metapoet, or translator-poet, 

experiences the greatest constraints on both scales. The product is a poem (Holmes 

1988:23). Prose translation and translation into verse form are discussed in more detail in 

sections § 2.2.4.1.1 and § 2.2.4.1.2, respectively.

28 

Continuing down the list, the poem that is an imitation of the original has fewer 

constraints than the metapoem. The poet of an imitation takes freedom to change various 

aspects of the poem as desired, and it is no longer considered a valid interpretation of the 

original. It may seemingly have some interpretive qualities; however, it has strayed too 

far to be considered a true evaluation of the original’s semantic content (Holmes 

1988:23). Imitation poetry is revisited in § 2.2.4.1.3 on re-creative translations. 

After imitation is the poem ‘about’ a poem and the poem inspired by a poem. 

These poems are devoid of representative features of the original. While they may still 

possess some semantic content found in the original, the writer crafts a poem that is so 

estranged from the theme and intent of the original that the connection between the two is 

very loose. 

2.2.4.1.1 Prose translation of a poem 

Prose translations of a poem may be broken down into various forms, such as 

“literal” and “unbound literary” translations. What is common to all of its forms is that 

they are all written using prose (Holmes 1988:23). Some people, particularly linguists, 

find prose translations, such as literal or interlinear versions, useful. 

E. Talbot Donaldson (1975:xv-xvi) writes that “only a prose translation, made 

with no other end in mind than fidelity to the original, can bring out the distinctive 

qualities of the work. To make it a modern poem is, inevitably, to make it a different 

poem.” Similarly, John Middleton Murry (1969:129) supported prose translation, saying: 

Poetry should always be rendered into prose. Since the aim of the 

translator should be to present the original as exactly as possible, no fetters 

of rhyme or metre should be imposed to hamper this difficult labour. 

Indeed they make it impossible. 

Contrary to this opinion, the German philologist and translator Ulrich von 

Willamowitz-Moellendorff (1992:33), believed in only translating poetry into verse form. 

Writing with regard to the translation of Homer into prose, he says that the translator 

“must divest himself of his jewels, in other words lose all the color of life.” In truth, von 

Willamowitz-Moellendorff did not think Homer was translatable into German, because

29 

there was no epic meter in the language. He believed that a poem was translatable only if 

there was a verse form in the receptor language that was “analogous” to the form in the 

original text. Regarding lyric poetry, von Willamowitz-Moellendorff (1992:33) states: 

Whoever wants to try them should, in any case, look for a German form 

analogous to the original in mood and style. Let him decide to what extent 

he can adapt himself to the form of the original. His intention as a 

translator will be a decisive factor, as will be his understanding of the text. 

Based on my research for this thesis, I am of the opinion that most people would 

generally side with von Willamowitz-Moellendorff, preferring the translation of poetry 

into a verse form. However, I also believe that most would be generally satisfied with any 

verse form, even if there was not an exact match of function in the receptor language. 

2.2.4.1.2 Translation into a verse form 

In the discussion above, we saw that Holmes considers a metapoem―a translation 

into verse form―to be the best translation of a poem. The next question for the metapoet 

is: Which verse form should be used? This same issue is addressed by Wendland (2009), 

who had the following to say with regard to his work in translating Hebrew poetry into a 

Bantu language: 

Having determined the audience and the manner of interacting with them 

via a “literary functional equivalence” (LiFE) translation (Wendland 2006: 

ch. 3), the search for an appropriate target language genre begins. In this 

case, our aim is to come as close as possible to an “elegiac” mode, in order 

to match the original Hebrew text in terms of content, beauty of poetic 

form, emotive tone, evocative imagery, rhetorical impact, and the oralaural 

medium of communication. (Wendland 2009:11) 

In addition to the issue of finding a suitable verse form, Wendland raises some additional 

topics here. Boerger (1997, 2009) also addresses these topics in her principles for 

translating poetry, which I present in § 2.2.4.3. 

Holmes (1988:25-7) identifies four approaches translators use for choosing a 

verse form. The first approach is to use a verse form that is relatively close to that of the 

original text. In this “mimetic form” approach, the translator takes only the form of the

30 

poem into consideration and does not consider other forms that are found in the receptor 

language (Holmes 1988:25-6). 

The next approach, the “analogous form,” is the process of matching the verse 

form of the poem to a verse form in the receptor language. This was the approach of von 

Willamowitz-Moellendorff. Holmes (1988:26) says that translators using this approach 

focus on “the function of [the poem’s] form within its poetic tradition.” Only then, with 

this information in mind, does the translator search for a verse form in the receptor 

language that has a similar function. Holmes calls these first two forms, the mimetic and 

the analogous, “form-derivative forms,” as both approaches focus on the form of the 

original text (Holmes 1988:26). 

Similar to the analogous form is the “organic form,” which Holmes (1988:27) 

describes as being “content-derivative.” With this approach, the content of the original 

poem is used, not the form. Holmes (1988:27) writes that the translator “starts from the 

semantic material, allowing it [the poem] to take on its own unique poetic shape as the 

translation develops.” Finally, the last form is known as a “deviant form” or 

“extraneous,” for it does not take into consideration either the form or the content of the 

original poem. Holmes (1988:27) says that “the translator making use of this approach 

casts the metapoem into a form that is in no way implicit in either the form or the content 

of the original.” 

2.2.4.1.3 Re-creative translation 

For many, referring to a poem as a “re-creative translation” is an oxymoron. If a 

poem has been re-created, how can it possibly be considered a translation? Many would 

say it is not even close to being an approximate rendition of the original. However, some 

scholars―past and present―find great value, and preference, in taking a poem and 

writing it in a way that brings it “up to date,” modernizing it for use in a new time. As we 

consider what people have written about “creative” and “re-creative” translation 

strategies, do bear in mind that the definitions may not be equal between writers. So

31 

while it may be difficult to discern someone’s boundaries, it is possible to understand 

their basic attitudes towards creative endeavors in poetry. 

In 1720 the philosopher Voltaire (1992:30) wrote the following words to Anne 

Dacier, a French scholar and translator of the classics: 

I am convinced that we have two or three poets in France who would be 

able to translate Homer very well; but I am equally convinced that nobody 

will read them unless they soften and embellish almost everything 

because, Madame, you have to write for your own time, not for the past. 

It seems that Voltaire was likely a supporter of Antoine Houdar de la Motte’s method of 

translation (Sidnell 1998:11). Houdar de la Motte states the following in response to the 

critics of his translation of Homer published in 1714: 

I have followed those parts of the Iliad that seemed to me worth keeping, 

and I have taken the liberty of changing whatever I thought disagreeable. I 

am a translator in many parts and an original author in many others. 

(Houdar de la Motte 1992:29) 

Regarding his reasoning for reducing the twenty-four volumes into twelve, he says: 

At first sight you might think that this could only be done at the expense 

of many important elements. But if you pause to reflect that repetitions 

make up more than one-sixth of the Iliad, and that anatomical details of 

wounds and the warriors’ long speeches make up a lot more, you will be 

right in thinking that it has been easy for me to shorten the poem without 

losing any important features of the plot. I flatter myself that I have done 

just that and I even think I have succeeded in bringing the essential parts 

of the action together in such a way that they form a better proportioned 

and more sensible whole than Homer’s original. (Houdar de la Motte 

1992:29) 

Houdar de la Motte only seems to mention in passing the existence of an original context, 

an original audience that would likely have appreciated many features of the Iliad that he 

himself finds undesirable: 

I have, therefore, only corrected―as far as possible―those defects in the 

poem that have a shocking or boring effect, since those are unforgivable. I 

have left the gods their passions, but I have always tried to preserve their 

dignity. I have not deprived the heroes of their unjust pride, which often 

appears as “grandeur” to us, but I have deprived them of the avarice, the 

eagerness, and the greed with which they stoop to looting, since these

32 

faults would bring them down in our eyes. (Houdar de la Motte 1992:29- 

30) 

Here Houdar de la Motte plainly states that the context for the audience in France at the 

time was much different from that of Homer’s audience. He translated for a particular 

audience, giving his audience something they could appreciate. However, one has to 

question, can one call his work a translation if it changes the characters’ actions and 

personalities? I would say it is not. If the product is one that strays too far from the 

original, it is better to consider that product an adaptation of a sort rather than a 

translation. Such an adaptation would fall into the category of an “imitation” on Holmes’ 

scale in Figure 1. 

In support of this view, von Willamowitz-Moellendorff (1992:34), who argues for 

translation into verse form, writes: 

We are faced with a totally different matter when a creative poet takes up 

an ancient work and transforms it recreatively in his own spirit. This is 

quite legitimate, even great, but it is not a translation. For translation only 

wants to let the ancient poet speak to us clearly and in a manner as 

immediately intelligible as he did in his own time. He must be given 

words, he must speak through our mouth. 

Hence, while von Williamowitz-Moellendorff may have thought Houdar de la Motte’s 

work of value, he would by no means call his version of Homer a translation. 

Perhaps translators resort to producing something other than what has been 

defined as a metapoem because the task is so difficult. Wilfrid Thorley (1920:1, 2), a 

translator of French verse into English, expressed it this way: 

In translation, it is a small thing to know, etymologically, the literal 

equivalent of foreign words, the important thing being to understand their 

intention, and to render their effect in your own way…This being so with 

a simple prose statement, the matter is obviously ten times more intricate 

when we come to poetry, where subtleties of sound are to be reproduced 

and the sense preserved, while duly conforming to the tyrannous 

exigencies of rhyme and metre. 

However, while Thorley (1920:4) does concede to some sort of re-creation strategy, his 

philosophy does seem to keep in step with that of the metapoet:

33 

No version of poetry, however faithful, can be good which does not read 

like poetry: to reproduce a poet’s precise wording is a very doubtful need, 

and in any case an impossible one; to reproduce his effect may be done if 

we approach the task in prayer and fasting, steadily set on forgetting his 

actual words as soon as we have mastered their meaning and got the 

massed sound of them tyrannously resonant in our ears. The best 

translators of poetry are, indeed, those who are least scrupulous of fidelity 

in detail; they slur over the untranslatable, and insinuate new words and 

turnings of the original thought that are so perfectly in tune with their 

originals as to render them far less haltingly than meticulous followers of 

the text…The real task of a translator is that of re-creating, and unless he 

can bring to his original as much as he takes from it, he had far better 

leave it alone. To a strict scholar this definition of translation may appear 

to be just what translation is not; but, though the makers of mere cribs 

have their uses, they are not such as concern permanent literature, nor do 

they help us at all to a relish of its savour. (italics my own) 

2.2.4.1.4 Apter on Ezra Pound’s “creative” translations 

Ezra Pound is considered one of the most influential and controversial poets of 

the 20 th century. He is particularly known for his translations of classical poetry. In her 

book Digging for the Treasure: Translation After Pound (1984), Ronnie Apter provides 

some insights regarding some of the poetry nomenclature mentioned above. 

According to Apter, the terms “creative,” “paraphrase” and “imitation” are not 

synonymous but represent different types of poetry. Concerning Pound’s poem Sestina: 

Altaforte, a translation of a 12 th century poem by Bertran de Born, Apter (1984:69) 

writes: 

I have called “Sestina: Altaforte” a creative translation, although there are 

good arguments in favor of calling it an imitation. It is one of the works in 

which Pound mingled his modes. However, since in my definition a poem 

is a creative translation insofar as the changes it makes in the sense of the 

original are criticisms of the original, the conclusions I draw from Pound’s 

critical practice in “Sestina: Altaforte” are relevant to my argument 

regardless of the category to which the translation is assigned. 

While this identifies a creative translation as being different from an imitation, we do not 

know how it relates to the idea of a metapoem. Apter (1984:4-5) summarizes Pound’s 

philosophy in these words from her opening chapter:

34 

Pound saw translations as new poems in two different, but connected, 

ways. First, he viewed the past as an active participant in the changing of 

the present. He selected for translation those poems which he felt 

displayed desirable qualities lacking in contemporary poetry. His 

translations from Provençal, Chinese, and Latin were deliberate attempts 

to change the poetic sensibility of his time. Such translations are in 

themselves new poems as well as reflections of old poems, because they 

are intended to belong to the body of contemporary poetry. 

Second, he believed that a translation cannot be the old poem; it can only 

be the old poem viewed from the standpoint of the present. Therefore, 

insofar as a translation is an augmented view of the past, colored by 

intervening centuries of experience, it is a new poem. 

Pound never set forth his translation theories in any one publication; however, 

some of his thoughts on the subject are available in his essays and letters (Apter 

1984:72). One term that he coined to describe one of his ideas is “logopoeia,” of which 

he writes: 

Logopoeia does not translate; though the attitude of mind it expresses may 

pass through a paraphrase. Or one might say, you can not translate it 

‘locally’, but having determined the original author’s state of mind, you 

may or may not be able to find a derivative or an equivalent. (Pound 

1968:25) 

Apter (1984:73), in response to Pound’s statement, says: 

Pound here takes for granted that the translator is interested, not in 

translating the sense of the original, but in finding an “equivalent” for the 

original author’s “state of mind.” This formula moves the translator 

definitely away from paraphrase. Paraphrase is resigned to losing the 

original author’s verbal mastery, rather than ever saying something he did 

not say, while imitation, as Dryden (1956:119) explained, permits one to 

add “new Beauties to the piece, thereby to recompense the loss which it 

sustains by change of Language…” Pound restricted liberty in “adding 

new Beauties to the piece” to those which are a “derivative” or an 

“equivalent” of something in the original poem. Thus, he was describing 

creative translation, not imitation. 

Pound’s interest in the “original author’s state of mind,” and not “the sense of the 

original,” would either place his idea of a creative poem between metapoem and imitation 

on Holmes’ model, or it would simply be equal to an imitation. In practice, though,

35 

Pound also produced poems that are not considered translations. For example, regarding 

Pound’s translations of Chinese poetry, Gu (2008:47) writes: 

…it has received a low evaluation from scholars of literary Sinology. Of 

course, Sinologists do not deny the high literary quality of Pound’s 

translation, but they have dismissed it as translation per se because they 

regard it as a free, untrammeled re-creation or re-writing. (author’s italics) 

Gu (2008:47) also writes that “professional translators of Chinese poetry…deplored his 

[Pound’s] lack of scholarship and disregard for fidelity.” 

While it is useful to think in all these terms―paraphrase, metapoem, creative 

poem, imitation―translations may often consist of more than one category. According to 

Holmes (1988:10-11), the metapoet “inevitably falls into the fallacy of paraphrase, 

shifting emphases and distorting meanings.” Quoting Frost (1955:16), he goes on to say 

that the poem is “a verbal object whose value is inseparable from the particular words 

used.” 

2.2.4.2 Holmes’ “retention versus modernization” model 

A second model Holmes discusses (1988:35-44) delineates the choices that 

confront the metapoet when translating a poem from another time period. Determinations 

must not be made just on the linguistic level but also on the literary and socio-cultural 

levels. For his discussion, Holmes uses translations of a 15 th century French rondel―an 

older verse form no longer in common use 19 ―by Charles d’Orléans. Holmes points out 

the fact that “the central image of the poem, young men riding on horseback to impress 

the girls, has lost its compelling force: their counterparts today ride motor-bikes or drive 

cars” (Holmes 1988:37). Concerning this image, the translator is faced with a decision 

between whether to “historicize” the poem, retaining the image, or “modernize” it, re- 

19 Turco (2000:241) describes the rondel as a thirteen line poem form that is “divided into two quatrains 

and a quintet.” The rhyme scheme is described as Abba abAB abbA, where the capital letter indicates a 

refrain (Turco 2000:129).

36 

creating the image by means of some equivalent in modern day society (Holmes 

1988:37). 

Later in the chapter, Holmes compares four translators’ renditions of the 

d’Orléans poem on all three levels: linguistic, literary (which is split in two, as noted 

below) and socio-cultural. For each level, he identifies whether the translator generally 

chose to historicize or modernize. The literary level is divided between verse in general 

and rondel form, as a poet may still choose to write in a verse form but not use the rondel 

form. Alternatively, a poet may use the rondel-like rhyming scheme but not adhere to its 

strict seven syllables per line. My discussion below of Holmes’ findings is quite 

summarized; I invite the reader to view his text for more specifics (Holmes 1988:41). 

The first translator listed (Adam Khan) was found to have historicized on every 

level. He predominantly used archaic, Middle English language and retained use of the 

rondel form. He also retained the socio-cultural themes in the original poem. The next 

translator (Gavin Ewart) modernized on the linguistic, verse and rondel levels, writing in 

a modern style and in free verse. This poet, however, retained socio-cultural features of 

the poem, historicizing on that level. The third translator (Peter Rowlett) modernized on 

the literary and verse levels, retaining the rondel form (but not the syllable count, which 

Holmes would view as historicizing on the verse level) and historicizing on the sociocultural 

level. Finally, the fourth translator (G.R. Nicholson) modernized on every level 

but the rondel form (Holmes 1988:41). 

The four translations may be summarized on four levels: linguistic, verse 

(general), rondel, and socio-cultural. Each poet either historicized (H) or modernized 

(M) on each of these levels. For example, Khan historicized on every level and may be 

summarized as (H-H-H-H). The other poets are summarized as follows: Ewart (M-M-M- 

H), Rowlett (M-M-H-H), and Nicholson (M-M-H-M). Holmes (1988:41) observes that 

none of the translators modernized on every level. Hence, one may surmise that 

translators of older poetry sense the need to retain something of the historicity of the 

original in their translations. He also points out that three out of the four translators chose 

a retentive strategy on the socio-cultural level, which for him raises the question:

37 

Can it be said that the possibilities for re-creation rather than retention are 

more restricted in this sphere than in the linguistic and the literary, 

whereas in the other two spheres the pressures against retentive 

historicizing are greater? And have these possibilities and pressures varied 

from age to age and from country to country? (Holmes 1988:42) 

While he realizes he has only conducted “a preliminary study,” Holmes (1988:41-42) 

does note that other studies of translations from older poetry have resulted in similar 

findings. 

Holmes continues the discussion by showing how metapoets over the centuries 

have employed different strategies for producing a metapoem. For example, in the 

nineteenth century metapoets were given to “exoticizing 20 and historicizing on all planes” 

(Holmes 1988:49). What is most noteworthy in this discussion is Holmes’ summary of 

the translator’s conundrum: How can something of quality be produced amid these two 

juxtaposed positions―to faithfully translate while at the same time write a poem? His 

discussion is repeated below. 

Translation, like many other goal-oriented activities, lends itself to 

consideration in the light of the theory of games. Viewed from this 

vantage point, the translation of a text consists of a game set by the 

translator: the game of producing an acceptable translation…The two 

basic rules of the game of verse translation are that the final result (1) must 

match the original to a large enough degree that it will be considered a 

translation (the criterion of minimum matching or minimum fit), and (2) 

must be of such a nature that it will be considered a poem (the poetic 

criterion). 

The poetic criterion entails a demand of unity or homogeneity: a poem, 

whatever else it may be, can be defined as a coherent textual whole. Yet 

the fact of translation, by its very nature, entails a basic dichotomy 

between source and target languages, literatures, and cultures―a 

dichotomy with, moreover, a temporal as well as a spatial dimension. To 

harmonize the demand of unity and the fact of dichotomy, the translator 

must resort to a game strategy of illusionism: accepting the dichotomy as 

inevitable, he must map out a general strategy of selecting from his 

retentive and re-creative possibilities those which will induce the illusion 

of unity. At the outset there are few further restrictions. But as the 

20 “Exoticizing” as opposed to “naturalizing.”

38 

translator moves further into the game, each choice limits further choices: 

the choice of archaic idiom, for example, tends to prohibit later recourse to 

contemporary slang, and the choice of a strict rhyme scheme and/or 

metrical system serves to restrict subsequent lexical and syntactic choices 

quite severely. 

Our problem, it would seem, has subtly shifted ground while we have been 

discussing it. Rather than coming to a definition of the limits of 

translatability such that we can say “all translation can attain this, and no 

more”, we have arrived at a polyvalent situation: the verse translator, by 

virtue of the choices he is required to make in his pursuit of the illusion of 

unity, presents one possible interpretation (out of many) of the original 

poem, re-emphasizing certain aspects at the cost of others. It is for this 

reason that there will always be need of more than one translation of any 

poem of importance, since several translations present more facets of the 

original than any one can do. (Holmes 1988:50-51) 

In the above lines, Holmes has definitively explained how formidable the task of 

translating poetry is. However, it is a worthwhile task, especially for those who desire to 

provide others with glimpses into the lives and thoughts of people who speak languages 

different from our own. Like Schlegel―so thankful for what German’s could learn from 

Wieland’s translation of Shakespeare―many still long to learn via the reading of 

translated poetry. 

2.2.4.3 Boerger’s principles for translating poetry 

Boerger (1997) advocates for translating poetry as poetry. To that end she 

articulates ten principles for translating poetry in an attempt to capture the decisionmaking 

process of a metapoet who is trying to balance the two criteria expressed by 

Holmes in the first paragraph of the quote immediately above. That is, she aims for her 

principles to address accuracy to the degree that the resulting effort can be viewed as a 

translation and for the principles to also address artistic and poetic considerations that 

result in the translation also being viewed as a poem. She applies these principles in her 

metapoetic translation POET Psalms, where the principles are refined and rearticulated as 

below (Boerger 2009:17).

39 

Accuracy can include: 

1. representing source language (SL) styles by target language (TL) 

styles, i.e. poetry by poetry 

2. representing SL rhetorical devices when compatible with the TL, or 

adding them whenever the text lends itself to a device (wordplay, 

alliteration, metaphor) to reflect their presence elsewhere. 

Linguistic naturalness can include the fact that: 

3. languages in contact borrow from one another, including literary 

forms. 

4. borrowed SL devices often change to conform to TL structures, 

including literary forms and devices. 

Literary License makes it legitimate to: 

5. combine TL rhetorical devices with borrowed SL ones. 

6. alter SL or insert TL metaphorical imagery, as long as meaning is 

preserved. 

7. apply translation principles, including reordering, across a broader 

range of sentences (verses) than is customarily done in non-literary 

translation. 

8. make adjustments in two directions—a) to adjust semantic content, 

such as its placement, implicitness, and word choices to accommodate 

the literary form being used, and b) to adjust the literary form being 

used to accommodate the semantics. 

9. use more than the required number of literary devices within a form, or 

to add literary devices to a form, in order to compensate for loss 

elsewhere in the poem. 

Clarity means: 

10. that when form or aesthetics make clarity inaccessible for a majority of 

(literate?) speakers, the accuracy and TL naturalness must take 

precedence over form or aesthetics. 

I return to these principles in Chapter 6, where I discuss my own and a native speaker’s 

translation of the same poem from English into Northern Kurdish, using some of the 

same decision-making criteria expressed by Boerger.

3. Interviews 

During the time of my research in Northern Iraq, I was fortunate to have the 

opportunity to conduct brief interviews with three poets: Badirxan Sindî, Mihsin Quçan 

and Mu’eyed Teyb. 21 I also interviewed Reşîd Findî, one of the chief editors of Ahmed 

Nalbend’s entire collection of poems. Below, I present highlights from these interviews. 

My interview with Badirxan Sindî was done in English. A translator was used for 

each of the other interviews. In a number of instances, the translator speaks in third 

person where the interviewee had spoken in first person. In the discussion that follows, I 

have changed these instances to first person for easier readability. The full transcriptions 

of the English provided by the translators are available in Appendix B. Regarding the 

subject of verse form and syllable count in Northern Kurdish poetry, I refer the reader to 

§ 5.3.1 and § 5.3.2, where it is covered in detail. 

3.1 On the development of Northern Kurdish poetry 

Northern Kurdish poetry is divided into four periods. The Classical period is the 

earliest period, consisting of poetry written before the time of Ahmed Nalbend (1891- 

1963), the earliest poet represented in the corpus. The poetry from this period may be 

summarized as having rhyme―particularly end rhyme―meter and classical forms. The 

poets of this era used Arabic, Farsi and Turkish in addition to Kurdish, and some poets 

even wrote entire poems in these languages. Nalbend is considered to be a representative 

example of the Neo-classical period. While these poets still utilized the poetic devices of 

21 Each interviewee gave permission for full use of the interview at the beginning of the interview session. 

40

41 

the classical poets, they wrote more predominantly in Kurdish. Still, in Nalbend’s poetry 

there are a good number of Arabic words, which the author may have used in lieu of 

Kurdish words for reasons of syllable count or meter. The next period in Northern 

Kurdish poetry is called the New period. According to Professor Mohamed Bakir of 

Dohuk University, the poetry of Abdulrahman Muzirî (b. 1946), who I was fortunate to 

hear at a poetry festival in Dohuk during the autumn of 2010, is representative of this 

style of poetry. My understanding is that there are two elements that mark this period. 

The first is that poets were moved to write even more exclusively in Kurdish than the 

poets of the Neo-classical period. The second feature of this time is the beginning of 

poetry in free verse. One important aspect of poetry that does seem to have carried over 

from the Neo-classical period to the New period is the themes which poets wrote about. 

From the information I have gathered, Cegerxwîn (1903-1984), Badirxan Sindî (b. 1943), 

and Mu’eyed Teyb (b. 1957) would be considered poets of this period, though perhaps 

some more recent poetry of Sindî and Teyb might be considered as modern. This brings 

us to the Modern period, of which Mihsin Quçan (b. 1954) is a representative example. 

The poetry of this period, which began in the 1980s, exhibits freedom from traditional 

themes and is composed only of free verse form. 22 

3.1.1 Neo-classical period 

Ahmed Nalbend was born in 1891 and lived in the town of Barmanê. He did not 

aspire to learn his father’s blacksmith trade, but rather chose religious studies at the 

mosque where he learned about poetry. Like many of the approximately twenty poets of 

his time, he was influenced by Ahmed Cezîrî and Ahmed Xanî, two renowned poets from 

centuries before him. These older poets wrote in the classical style, using form, meter, 

and rhythm and incorporated words from other languages in their poetry—specifically 

Farsi, Arabic and Turkish. Nalbend emulated the classical style of these poets but 

22 The information on the periods of Northern Kurdish poetry was obtained via personal correspondence 

with Prof. Mohamed Bakir of Dohuk University.

42 

distanced himself from them by writing primarily in Kurdish, while sometimes resorting 

to Arabic words to meet a desired meter. It is said that Nalbend “loved poetry so much 

and was so good at it that he would use any scrap. He would have a cigarette box, and 

write on that cigarette box…a kleenex and he would write a poem” (Findî 2010). 

According to Mu’eyed Teyb, this was the first stage in the changes in Northern 

Kurdish poetry, which would later be called the Neo-classical period. Nalbend was 

attempting to write in the classical style but “his language was more popular and content 

had more variety…more subjects, more strategy, more extension.” Although Nalbend 

did not aspire to become involved in politics, he wrote about Kurdish nationality and the 

movement for Kurdish independence. Salih Yusef, another poet of the period, was more 

politically aware and adept in writing about such issues (Teyb 2010a). 

Nalbend’s era saw significant change. He was born under the Ottoman Empire 

and experienced the hope that a Kurdish state would develop during the British 

occupation of the area which would later become Iraq. Then he saw the destruction of 

that hope and the tragedies against his people that followed when the Kurdish-speaking 

area was divided between Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Syria. It was during this time that 

Nalbend was moved to write poetry because he saw “that the Kurdish culture and…main 

identity were lost” (Findî 2010). 

3.1.2 New period 

During the time leading up to Nalbend’s death 23 in 1963, “most of the people…in 

Dohuk (the largest city in the Northern Kurdish-speaking area) did not know that there 

was Kurdish literature or Kurdish poets” (Sindî 2010). In the Kurdish area, especially in 

the city of Zaxo, which is near the Turkish border, Kurdish literature was forbidden. It 

was not until he was in college (around 1966) that Badirxan Sindî heard that there were 

23 When the Iraqi military was coming northward, Nalbend killed himself out of fear of being taken 

prisoner by them and, perhaps, tortured. He had joined the Kurdish revolution in 1961 and felt he was a 

target because of the things he said in his poetry (Findî 2010).

43 

two famous Kurdish poets, Ahmed Cezîrî and Ahmed Xanî, and read their works (Sindî 

2010). Sindî says: 

Indeed my first drive into looking for Kurdish literature at that time was 

the feeling of Kurdishness. And Kurdishness means “the feeling of being a 

Kurd,” or the feeling that I am a Kurdish man and I have the right to be 

like all the people who have their freedom and independence―and one of 

markers of our cultural identity is our language and our literature. (Sindî 

2010) 

After Nalbend, poets such as Badirxan Sindî and Abdulrahman Muzirî began 

writing their poetry in a much purer Kurdish. They still wrote in the Neo-classical style, 

but worked to write without the use of Arabic or other languages of wider communication 

(LWC). Also during this time, these poets, as well as Cegerxwîn, no longer wrote poems 

asking God to protect them and make them free, but called out to the people to educate 

themselves and become more aware of the social, cultural and political issues facing the 

people (Teyb 2010a). 

Until the 1970s, Kurds had only been educated in Arabic. But a peace treaty in 

1970 between Mustafa Barzanî, the leader of the Northern Kurdish Kurds, and the Iraqi 

government gave Kurdish an official status in the country. Nalbend’s poems were 

published for the first time, and, based on that treaty, one subject in Kurdish was 

permitted in the schools. This was the first time students were introduced to Kurdish 

poetry and grammar (Teyb 2010a). It was also during this time that some Northern 

Kurdish poets in Iraq began writing in free verse, 24 where the classical rules of writing 

with rhyme, line length (syllable count) and meter do not apply (Quçan 2010). Sindî 

explains his first experience writing free verse as follows: 

This was in 1975 when the Shah of Iran and Saddam Hussein signed what 

they called the Algerian Treaty. So when I heard it, I was shocked and I 

couldn’t believe that everything was over, because Kurdish people and the 

fighters had been fighting for years―from’61 to ’75. It was for 14 years. 

24 Sorani poets, and even Northern Kurdish poets in Syria, began writing in free verse before Bahdini 

speakers (Quçan interview 2010, Appendix B).

44 

And I started to write my poem, and I felt, really, I can’t use the qafîa. 25 

I can’t cater to the vowels and consonants. So I put my poem about that 

subject in a free style, and that was my first time when I wrote in this 

style. (Sindî 2010) 

Mihsin Quçan, Mu’eyed Teyb, Abdulrahman Mizuri and Feisel Mustafa are some of the 

other poets who also began writing in free verse during this time. 

The main subject of the poetry of this time was Kurdistan, and focused on 

Kurdish rights and their fight for Kurdish independence (Teyb 2010a). Quçan says, “It 

was all about patriotism―national poetry. For example, if you said “my sweetheart,” it 

was Kurdistan. If you said, “my mother,” it was Kurdistan” (Quçan 2010). In 1979, 

however, the Iraqi Minister of Information set some limits and restrictions on Kurdish 

communications, affecting the topics allowed in poetry; and in 1982 Mu’eyid Teyb’s 

poems (and likely poems of other poets) were banned, and his family felt threatened. 

Teyb says, “But some young men liked my poetry―they memorized it. They wrote it by 

hand and distributed it to each other. That’s why some of them are still around. Of 

course, some have become songs” (Teyb 2010a). 

Putting poetry into song was nothing new for Kurds. Many learned Cegerxwîn’s 

poetry through songs by Şivan Perwar, a singer from Turkey (Teyb 2010a). In my initial 

conversation with Badirxan Sindî, he mentioned that many of his poems were known 

from being the lyrics of songs by Tehsin Taha, a famous singer in Iraq at the time, who is 

still revered. 

3.1.3 Modern period 

Starting in 1991, everything changed for Iraqi Kurds. After the US warred against 

Iraq to free Kuwait, the Kurdish people began to rise up and see themselves as free, 

without Saddam Hussein. But when America left, Hussein’s forces came northward. The 

Kurds fled for their lives to the mountains in Turkey. There they suffered a great deal, as 

25 Sindî explains that the word qafîa means ‘end rhyme.’ I have not determined if it can be used more 

widely, such as for other rhymes or assonance.

45 

it was winter and they had no food or shelter. Many died from starvation and sickness. 

This was a huge turning point for the Kurds. According to Quçan (2010): 

That America―which was against our beliefs, our ideas―that America 

itself came to help us and protect us. And we were peşmerga, ‘Kurdish 

military!’ So, we were in Iran and were like rural people; but then we 

came into the civil life in cities. The Kurdish man who was low esteemed 

before― now he highly appreciated himself. 

Quçan (2010) goes on to say: 

We in Iraq were in a closed society. We didn’t know anything about the 

world, through books and things. But after that―after Saddam, 26 or after 

the uprising you could say―satellite TV came into Kurdistan and things 

from Syria came. So there was a great opening up to the world towards 

Iraq. So all the norms were changed. These factors…affected the norms of 

writing poetry, of visualizing things―for example, a tree, water, 

everything was changed. Even how to deal with your children, your wife, 

took another form. It was the other way around; it was changed. So this 

fast and successive change affected the way authors thought and wrote. 

In 1994, after these changes happened, there was a civil war among the Kurdish 

people. It was in this year that a new group called “Renewal Forever” was formed, led by 

Quçan. All of society—mosques, political parties, the university—was against what the 

group was seeking to do. Renewal Forever sought to challenge society to change its 

norms. As time passed, some people in the group died; others immigrated from Iraq. 

While it only lasted about two years, according to Quçan, its effect on society remains. 

He says: 

…such as the poets who were under the effects of that group, as well as 

painters and those who work in the theatre. Even the religious men―when 

they go, for example, on Friday to the mosque, they admit that if there’s 

no renovation, there’s no life. These are the changes that happened in 

poetry. (Quçan 2010) 

Today, most poets in the Northern Kurdish area write in a modern, free verse 

style. Generally, it is mostly the older poets who are still writing in the Neo-classical 

26 Saddam Hussein, the fifth president of Iraq.

46 

style. 27 Regarding the issue of themes in present day poetry, Quçan says that because life 

is less predictable now, the subject matter for poetry has changed. Life in the village was 

simpler, but with urban life comes a life that is less planned and more reactionary. Quçan 

says, “Our feelings now are confused. We don’t have fixed style…[or] pure subject to 

write about…If you read my poems, you can see a mixture of subjects” (Quçan 2010). 

3.2 Sindî on present day poetry 

Sindî expressed a couple of concerns regarding the state of Kurdish poets of this 

generation—the younger poets. First, he calls them “beginners,” saying that they don’t 

have any “literature roots.” They started reading and writing in the Kurdish language at a 

time when Kurdish literature was forbidden. Instead of spending time in the classics, 

most people writing poetry “just imitate the Palestinian poets, French poets, Italian poets, 

American poets. They read some translated work and try to copy the same experience and 

the same literature—but they put it in Kurdish language.” Sindî goes on to say: 

They think that modern poetry is when you say something illogical, when 

you say some strange things, when you say some nasty things, when you 

try to be strangers in your society. They think this is modern literature. 

They try to pretend that they are the generation of renewing the literature. 

And some of them say, “No, we are not renewing the literature; we are 

establishing the literature, and everything that has been said before us, it 

is not literature.” (Sindî 2010) 

He admits that this is not the case with all poets, and that there are some very respectable 

poets in both the Northern and Central Kurdish areas. 

3.3 Quçan on poetry and life in the village 

say: 

On poetry and how life was in the village years ago, Quçan had the following to 

27 To my knowledge, there are no living poets who write in the older, Classical style of Cezîrî and Xanî. 

These poets used Farsi, Arabic and Turkish words in their lines of poetry.

47 

In Kurdistan, in winter, the nights are very long. So when winter would 

come, everything would stop. You could not work outside. You would eat 

and drink and at night everybody would sit down. There were poems, of 

course, poetry, and there were stories, and there were poems for crying, 

for making fun, for nationalism, for everything. And, of course, their 

fathers would recite poems to children, or the grandfather or 

grandmother…But they would not say, for example, this is Nalbend’s 

poem or Cezirî’s poem. They just recited the poem. (Quçan 2010) 

3.4 On themes in Northern Kurdish poetry 

During my interviews and other discussions with Reşîd Findî and Badirxan Sindî, 

I was given a number of Northern Kurdish terms for poetic themes. These themes are 

summarized in Table 2. The table also identifies the themes used by three of the poets 

represented in the corpus. 28 

28 Quçan was not included as we did not discuss themes much during the interview. He, personally, does 

not believe that his poems reflect any one subject.

48 

Table 2. 

Themes of Northern Kurdish poetry 

Kurdish term English meaning Nalbend Sindî Teyb 

evîn, evînî love X X X 

dawaza 29 jin erotic X 

dînî religious X 

sîasî political X X 

niştimanî patriotic X X X 

edeta Kurd Kurdish culture X 

nekamî calumny X 

zêmar keening/eulogy X 

cevak, cevakî society, social X X 

secularization 

X 

tragedy of an 

individual 

X 

I have chosen to refer to these Northern Kurdish classifications as poetic themes 

as opposed to genres. I learned through my conversation with Badirxan Sindî that the 

subject matter of a poem does not predetermine the form (or forms) one should use. Nor 

does it designate a particular style. The poet who writes with a Classical style may choose 

freely which form he or she would like to write in. While it is true that in centuries past 

29 The spelling dawaz was provided by Findî, who spoke some English. Other resources for this word, 

which means ‘to request’ or ‘to demand,’ spell it daxwez (Şirîn 2006) and daxwaz (Chyet 2003).

49 

there were some expectations of the poet with regard to use of form, 30 as of the 20 th 

century until today, this is not the case. 

The first theme listed in Table 2 is evîn, or evînî, which means ‘love.’ Sindî 

defined his love poetry as “romantic,” a word nonexistent in Northern Kurdish. In saying 

this, he wanted to distinguish his evîn poems from love poetry by other authors where 

respect for women is lacking. He says (in English), “I prefer to use the word romantic for 

my poems because I understand love. There is no real love without respect. Love is 

mixed with respect” (Sindî 2010). He may have said this to distinguish his poetry from 

another theme. Ahmed Nalbend wrote many poems of the theme dawaza jin, which Findî 

defined, in English, as ‘wanting a woman.’ This is the name given to Nalbend’s erotic 

poetry, which many Kurds consider vulgar. 

Poetry about the concerns of a nation covers many themes. Teyb (2010a) summed 

up his poetry by saying “most of my subjects are about Kurdistan.” Sîasî (political), 

niştîmanî (patriotic) and edata Kurd (Kurdish culture) are three themes that deal with a 

country and its people. Chyet (2003) defines niştîman as ‘homeland, one’s native 

country.’ For the Kurds― being without their own political state―the word represents 

the land where they have lived for centuries, perhaps even millennia. Sindî (2010) 

defined niştîmanî as ‘patriotic,’ which would include the desire for nationality. In this 

sense, it is hard to separate it from sîasî poetry. But it is not unusual for themes to cross 

over one another; nor is it unusual for a poem to contain more than one theme. According 

to Findî, Edeta Kurd, ‘Kurdish culture,’ is a theme Nalbend used; however, I do not have 

30 For example, traditionally, narrative poems were written in the methnawî, or couplet, form (in Persian, 

masnavî). I refer the reader to § 5.3.1.2 for the specifics on this form. The treasured story of Mem u Zîn by 

the classicial poet Ahmed Xanî is an example of an epic poem written in the methnawî form (Kreyenbroek 

2005). Another example is the qasida, ‘ode,’ the most common form used by the Classical poet Melaye 

Cezîrî. Considered to have laid the foundation for the Kurdish qasida, Cezîrî’s qasida’s are devoted to 

philosophical and mystical ideas. Unfortunately, in English we have few details on this form which in most 

instances consisted of 30 to 99 couplets (Shakely 1996:329). Turco (2000:216) defines an ode as “any 

poem that celebrates an event or a person.”

50 

a specific example of this theme in the corpus. In his poem Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, ˈIt’s 

Wonderful Like Heaven,’ Nalbend does mention some aspects of Kurdish culture. 

However, the poem is considered to be niştîmanî, since most of it is devoted to the land 

itself and the pride of its people. 

Two other themes closely related to sîasî, niştîmanî and edata Kurd are 

‘secularism’ and cevakî, which means ‘social.’ Sindî did not provide the Kurdish term for 

‘secularism’ but considers it one of the themes in his poetry. He says that this theme is 

evident in much of his poetry, sometimes to a greater degree, sometimes less. This would 

also describe much of Cegerxwîn’s poetry and is evident in his poem Dînê Me Tête 

Zanîn, ‘Our Religion Is Becoming Known.’ 

The theme cevakî was also described by Sindî. He had the following to say: 

I have some poems which deal with our social problems in Kurdistan. And 

we have a lot of social problems, because Kurdish society is changing 

from old values to new values, from old culture to new culture. That is 

why we have a lot of problems related to or due to these transitions. 

We’ve got some people in the traditional class and some in the modern 

class in our society. We’ve got some people who believe in religion 

deeply and we’ve got, on the other side, some people who do not believe 

in religion at all. We’ve got people who believe in our customs―Kurdish 

customs―and we have another side; we’ve got a lot of people who believe 

in European customs and modern customs. So there is a contradiction in 

our social life. In my poetry I try to describe these problems and to find 

some solutions to our problems. So, we can call these poems as poems of 

the social field. (Sindî 2010) 

One of Nalbend’s poems, Ey Ze’îmê Bê Nivêjê Bê Werar, ‘O Leader Without 

Prayer and Use,’ is considered to be of the theme nekamî, which is basically the opposite 

of a eulogy. The word nekamî means ‘criticism’ and, according to Findî, it is a specific 

theme of poetry that deals with criticism of “one bad person.” According to Turco 

(2000:73), such poetry would fall under the theme of calumny, which he defines as 

“slander or disparagement, defamation of one’s character.” 

Sindî’s poem Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ 

exhibits a theme opposite to nekamî. It, too, is about an individual, but deals with praising 

someone who has died. We would call such a poem a eulogy (Turco 2000:78). However,

51 

the only Northern Kurdish term that is appropriate for the poem is zêmar. Zêmar means 

‘mourning’ or ‘sorrow’ (Chyet 2003:689) and perhaps best describes the poem, as the 

sense of sadness and loss is strongly evident throughout the poem. Sindî describes zêmar 

as: 

…a sort of crying―when you are alone and loose something, some 

valuable thing, especially when you lose one of your relatives or 

somebody close to you…This sort of crying or sadness we call zêmar 

which is different from the word girîan. The word girîan means ‘crying.’ 

This is near to the English word―girîan and ‘crying.’ But girîan is the 

crying when everywhere you can cry, like outside the home or at home. 

People can hear you when you cry…But zêmar is when you cry in your 

loneliness, and you are alone and you cry for some personal thing. (Sindî 

2010) 

Hence, zêmar is closer to the term keening, which Turco defines as ‘mournful wailing’ 

(Turco 2000:79). Eulogy would be an additional theme that can be presented within 

zêmar poetry. 

3.5 Sindî on the use of other Northern Kurdish subdialects 

Regarding how the variations in spoken Northern Kurdish are helpful to the poet, 

Sindî (2010) had the following to say: 

The people in Zaxo [where Sindî is from] speak differently from the 

people in Amedy and Akre and Dohuk. Sometimes the people in Amedy 

omit one letter, one sound, when they speak, while in Zaxo they 

pronounce the whole word. So our poets here or in Sulemaniya or in 

Hawler (the Kurdish name for Erbil) get an advantage from these 

differences between the subdialects. 

As an example, Sindî mentioned the line, çend car tu hatî, which means, ‘how many 

times did you come.’ In Zaksho the word for ‘time’ in this phrase is car. In Amedy they 

say ca, leaving off the r. If the poet preferred ca over car for the poem, he or she could 

use it. Word variations can be especially useful if two versions differ in number of 

syllables. Also, as end rhyme is one of the most important features of Neo-classical 

poetry, a word different from the poet’s subdialect may also be useful in forming a rhyme 

at the end of a line, or elsewhere in a poem.

52 

Concerning the issue of changing spellings, as is sometimes done in English 

rhymed poetry (e.g. “shower” versus “show’r”), Sindî (2010) says: 

If you change the spelling you get something. We call it hozana, ‘poem,’ 

leng. 31 Leng describes a man who has some difficulty with his legs so that 

when he walks, he can’t walk in a normal way. So if you change the 

spelling, you’ll get a leng poem. And this is not good for a poet to have a 

leng. It’s a handicapped line. You have to change the words and find the 

right one which gives the same meaning with the right measurement of the 

syllables. 

Hence, changing the spelling is not permissible. Sindî affirmed after these comments that 

the words a poet uses must exist in one of the subdialects of the language (Sindî 2010). 

3.6 Sindî on use of end rhyme 

According to Sindî, the qafîa, end rhyme, of a poem is nicer, more musical, if at 

least the last two letters are the same. One example he used was the end rhyme of ra in 

the words bira, çira and gira. He says that some poets will use the last three letters, but 

that such rhyming is so difficult as the more letters you use, the less alternatives you 

have. Regarding his own poetry, he says: 

I prefer to use two letters because society sometimes needs a lot of music 

of the poem, to make them listen to you. This is one of our problems, 

when you have a message in your poem. When you really care to make the 

people listen to you, you have to put something in your poem to make 

them listen. Sometimes it is the meaning, some brave words or sometimes 

the music itself. So I have to think in my poem, I have to dance in my 

poem to get their attention to make them listen to what I’d like to say. 

(Sindî 2010) 

31 The word hozan is another word for a poem or poetry. The word Sindî describes here is leng, or lang, 

which Chyet (2003:348) lists as meaning ‘lame, limping’ or ‘awkward.’

53 

3.7 Quçan on imagery in his poetry 

Poetry is understood to be a creative means of expression. One notable moment in 

my interview with Mihsin Quçan was when he talked about his utilization of popular 

Kurdish traditions of dream interpretation in his poetry. He says: 

In Kurdish tradition, for example, if you see blood in your dream, it means 

you will depart from something. Or if you see that your tooth is pulled out, 

it means you will die or something. (Quçan 2010) 

Quçan collected these ideas and “put them in his poetry with a new angle, a new way” 

(Quçan 2010). These are things that the outsider, the person from another culture, cannot 

know. The outsider has little familiarity with such old traditions and beliefs. 

At the writing of this thesis, I did not have the opportunity with a native speaker 

to identify if this specific dream imagery is present in the corpus. There is one poem by 

Quçan that deals with blood and begins with references to dreams―Birînên Şevên 

Xwînelo, ‘Wounds of Night Covered in Blood.’ However, I do not see this specific image 

in the poem, which seems to predominantly be concerned with real life experience―not 

dreams. Teyb’s Xewinek, ‘A Dream,’ also contains dream imagery requiring 

interpretation.

4. A grammatical sketch of Northern Kurdish 

4.1 Introduction 

Kurdish is traditionally divided into three groups: Northern, Central and Southern 

Kurdish. These languages are in the Western Iranian group of the Indo-Iranian branch of 

the Indo-European family of languages (Sweetnam 2005:xix). Northern Kurdish is 

spoken in Eastern Turkey, Northern Syria, Northern Iraq and Northwestern Iran (Allison 

2001:6). There is also a large area of speakers in Northeastern Iran. Pockets of speakers 

exist in nearby countries, such as Armenia and Azerbaijan, and in large cities of western 

Turkey, such as Istanbul and Ankara. Kurdish emigrants who speak Northern Kurdish 

can also be found in many more distant countries, such as Germany, Sweden, the 

Netherlands, the UK, Russia, the USA and Australia. 

The grammar herein presented is not meant to be exhaustive but is detailed 

enough to give the reader a basic understanding of the language in the corpus. While I 

have utilized the works of MacKenzie, Sirîn, Thackston, Zaxoyî, Sweetnam, and Chyet, I 

have also drawn from my own experience of living in the Badinan area of northern Iraq. 

Additionally, my personal communication with Nicholas and Denise Bailey, as well as 

Shivan Tovi and Perwer Shushi―native speakers of the language― has been invaluable. 

Northern Kurdish in northern Iraq is often referred to as Bahdini, or by the area of its 

speakers, Badinan. 

4.2 Orthography and phonetics 

Northern Kurdish is written with Latin, Arabic and Cyrillic alphabets, depending 

on the location of the speakers (Thackston 2006:viii). The more widely accepted Latin 

orthography is the one that was used by the Badir Khan brothers in the 1930s, which has 

54

55 

some similarities to the system that was adopted in 1926 for writing Turkish. Instead of 

using the Wahby system, which was closer to English spellings in that it used digraphs 

ch, sh, gh, iy, rh, lh and uw, it used the graphemes ç, ş, ẍ, î, ř, ĺ, and û (Hassanpour 

1992:374). In Iraq and Iran, an adapted Arabic script, herein referred to as Kurdish 

script, is the primary orthography, though in Iraq some books and magazines are written 

in the Latin alphabet. An adapted Cyrillic alphabet has been used by Kurds in Russia, 

Armenia, Georgia, and Azerbaijan since the 1930’s (Thackston 2006:viii). For the 

purposes of this study, I have used the Latin script for all poems. All interlinear glossing 

follows the conventions of the Leipzig Glossing Rules. 32 All examples that are not 

otherwise referenced come from my own research. Their translations have been 

confirmed with native speakers of the language. 

4.2.1 Vowels 

Vowels in Northern Kurdish are written as a, e, ê, i, î, o, u and û. Pronunciation 

varies across the area where Northern Kurdish is spoken. Some words are written 

differently due to dialect differences. The sounds herein described are for the area of 

focus in this study. 

The following is a list of the Latin letters for Northern Kurdish, with International 

Phonetic Alphabet (IPA) equivalents (in brackets). I have also included examples from 

English and example words for each sound. 

32 One website where these rules may be viewed is http://www.eva.mpg.de/lingua/resources/glossingrules.php. 

A pdf document is also available at this website.

56 

a, A [ɑ] like ‘a’ in ‘father’ dar (tree, wood), dawat (wedding, dance) 

e, E 33 [ə] like ‘u’ in ‘cup’ bez (fat, grease), neh (nine) 

[æ] like ‘a’ in ‘cap’ her (each, every), pel (coal, ember) 

[ɛ] like ‘e’ in ‘bet’ feqî (fruit), gelek (much, many, very) 

ê, Ê [e] like ‘ai’ in ‘bait’ mêj (the past, old times), pê (foot, leg) 

i, I [ɪ] like ‘i’ in ‘bit’ cih (place), fil (elephant) 

î, Î [i] like ‘ee’ in ‘deep’ pîs (dirty), sîk (market area) 

o, O [o] like ‘o’ in ‘boat’ roj (day), kor (blind) 

u, U [ʊ] like ‘u’ in ‘cook’ guh (ear), du (two) 

û, Û [u] like ‘u’ in ‘boot’ mûz (banana), kûr (deep) 

4.2.2 Consonants 

The consonants of Northern Kurdish are as follows: 

b, B [b] like ‘b’ in ‘boy’ baran (rain), rîbar (river) 

c, C [ʤ] like ‘j’ in ‘jam’ can (beautiful), pênc (five) 

ç, Ç [ʧ] and [ʧʰ] 34 like ‘ch’ in ‘cherry’ çav (eye), maç (kiss) 

d, D [d] like ‘d’ in ‘dog’ dem (time), sed (hundred) 

33 Regarding the Northern Kurdish dialect known as Kurmanji (referring to the dominant Kurdish language 

in Turkey), Thackston (2006:1) states that “the [æ] pronunciation of this vowel is taken as standard; for 

many speakers, however, it is closer to [ɛ], the vowel of English ‘bet,’ in all environments.” I have 

observed, however, that in the Bahdini dialect, the sound represented by the letter e is often closer to [ɜ] or 

[ə], or somewhere between [æ] and [ə]. I would consider [ɜ], then, to be closer to the medial pronunciation 

of the vowel. Variation, however, does exist even among the speakers of Bahdini. 

34 In the writing system, there is no difference between the aspirated and unaspirated ç, k, p, and t.

57 

f, F [f] like ‘f’ in ‘find’ feqî (fruit), keyf (happiness) 

g, G [ɡ] like ‘g’ in ‘game’ goşt (meat), mêrg (farm) 

h, H [h] like ‘h’ in ‘him’ heval (friend), guh (ear) 

ḧ, Ḧ [ħ] voiceless pharyngeal ḧeta (until), ciḧel (youth) 

fricative 

j, J [ʒ] like ‘g’ in ‘beige’ jûjî (hedgehog), mij (fog) 

k, K [k] and [kʰ] like ‘k’ in ‘kin’ kur (son, boy), bîk (bride) 

l, L [l] like ‘l’ in ‘lot’ leş (body), pel (ember, live coal) 

m, M [m] like ‘m’ in ‘mom’ mişmiş (apricot), kêm (little) 

n, N [n] like ‘n’ in ‘nun’ nîv (half), nan (bread) 

p, P [p] and [pʰ] like ‘p’ in ‘pond’ pak (pure, clean), çep (left, opposite of right) 

q, Q [q] voiceless uvular stop, qelew (fat, plump), fêqî (fruit) 

like ‘k’ but further 

back in throat 

r, R [ɾ] flap, similar to the rastî (truth), pîr (old) 

Spanish [r] 

Note: Every word initial ‘r’ is trilled. When a 

trilled ‘r’ is found elsewhere, it is often indicated 

in the orthography by ‘rr,’ as in pirr, ‘very.’ 

Spelling can vary according to dialect. 

s, S [s] like ‘s’ in ‘sock’ sarr (cold), bes (but, enough, only) 

ş, Ş [ʃ] like ‘sh’ in ‘ship’ şev (night), tişt (thing) 

t, T [t] and [tʰ] like ‘t’ in ‘toad’ tov (seed), betal (unemployed, nothing to do) 

v, V [v] like ‘v’ in ‘van’ vîan (life), çav (eye)

58 

w, W 35 [w] like ‘w’ in ‘wit’ were (come), kew (partridge) 

x, X [χ] voiceless uvular xanî (house), ax (dirt) 

fricative, similar to 

German velar ‘ch’ 

in ‘Bach’ 

ẍ, Ẍ [ʁ] voiced uvular pêẍember (prophet), baẍ (garden) 

fricative 

y, Y [j] like ‘y’ in ‘yes’ yarî (game), mey (wine) 

Note: The same symbol is used for ‘y and ‘î’ 

in the modified Arabic script. In the Latin based 

script, ‘y’ is used word initial when it is 

followed by a vowel. ‘y’ is also used for the 

dipthongs ay and ey. 

z, Z [z] like ‘z’ in ‘zoo’ zîv (silver), xîz (sand) 

’ [ʕ] voiced pharyngeal ‘eciz (upset), du’a (prayer) 

fricative 

4.2.3 Diphthongs and sound variation 

In Kurdish script (the Kurdish orthography based on the Arabic script) there is no 

distinction between w and u. The same is true of y and î. Therefore, writing in the Latin 

script varies. Often when a w is next to a vowel, the two join to become a diphthong. 

Such is the case for the word for ‘salt,’ xwê. Additionally, variations exist according to 

region and social identities, such as tribe and religion. Many Kurds of northern Iraq are 

still very much divided into various tribes and each tribe may exhibit small differences in 

pronunciation and, ultimately, differences in spelling. 

35 The same symbol is used for ‘w’ and ‘u’ in the modified Arabic script. In the Latin based 

script, ‘w’ is used word initial when it is followed by a consonant. When ‘w’ preceeds an “i, î or 

ê, the sound is a close, back, unrounded semivowel [ɯ], like the French cuire.” (Thackston 

2006:3)

59 

4.2.4 Glides 

A glide is often added when a suffix (ezafe 36 conjunctive particle, oblique marker, 

or indefinite article marker) or enclitic 37 (copula) is added to a word ending in a vowel. 

This is most easily understood by means of example. In example (1), which is a line from 

the corpus, the word meyî consists of the 3PL personal pronoun, me, and the 2SG copula, î. 

For glossing, it is customary to consider the glide to be a part of the enclitic, or in other 

instances as part of the suffix. In this example the copula with the glide is yî. 

(1) baz-ê baz-an şah-ê Kurd-an ruhinî-ya çav-ê (BS1:5) 

falcon-EZ.M falcon-OBL.PL king-EZ.M Kurd-OBL.PL light-EZ.F eye-EZ.M 

me-yî 

1DP=COP.PRS.2SG 

‘Falcon of falcons, king of Kurds, you are the light of our eye.’ 

In some instances a glide must be changed to a vowel, and in other instances a 

vowel may change to a glide. In line six of the same poem, shown in (2), the word for 

‘wine,’ mey, appears twice. In the first instance, meîya, the y on mey is changed to an î so 

that the ezafe particle, in this case ya, can be added. The change is necessary because the 

language does not phonologically have consecutive y’s. On the second mey, a glide is not 

required and the copula is simply added. The contrast in these two examples needs 

further research to explain why in the first instance the ezafe conjunctive particle -ya was 

added, when seemingly it could have simply been -a. The difference between these two 

examples may be phonological or it may have something to do with the difference 

between an ezafe conjunctive particle being added versus a copula. There’s also a 

possibility that the reason has something to do with poetics. My purpose is not to 

36 The ezafe conjunctive particle is used to connect modifying nouns, pronouns and attributive adjectives to 

a head noun. § 4.4.2.4 discusses the ezafe conjunctive particle as well as other particles and markers that are 

attached to nouns. 

37 The term enclitic is used to refer to a word that are attached phonetically to end of another word. The 

Northern Kurdish present tense copula is considered an enclitic. Ezafe particles and markers, such as 

oblique markers, are attached to words but are not considered to be words themselves.

60 

explicate glides here but to make the reader aware that such insertions and changes occur 

in the language. 

(2) nê me nal-în=e ji dîr-î meî-ya ‘şq-a (BS1: 6) 

do 1DP lament.PRS-1PL=DIR 38 from distance-OBL.M wine-EZ.F love-EZ.F 

me mey=î 

1DP wine=COP.PRS.2SG 

‘We do lament from the distance, the wine of our love. You are the wine.’ 

4.2.5 Contractions 

Northern Kurdish has a number of contractions that are prepositional phrases. All 

consist of a preposition and a third person pronoun, either wî, 3OM, or wê, 3OF. There are 

no contractions with plural pronouns. Table 3 presents how these contractions break 

down. To write without the use of these contractions would be ungrammatical. 

Table 3. 

Contractions. 

contraction 

jê 

lê 

pê 

tê 

breakdown 

ji + wî or ji + wê 

li + wî or li + wê 

bi + wî or bi + wê 

di + wî or di + wê 

Some of these contractions are used in idiomatic verbs. Examples (3) and (4) 

contain the verb ‘hear,’ which requires the noun guh, ‘ear,’ a prepositional phrase (PP), 

and the copula verb, ‘be.’ In (3) the PP is the contraction lê. In (4) a contraction cannot be 

used, as there is no contraction for li plus a 2SG pronoun. The same difference is evident 

in examples in (5) and (6) containing jê and ji min, respectively 

(3) min guh lê ne bî. 

1O hear at.3OF not be.PRS.1SG 

‘I don’t hear her.’ 

38 This directional enclitic appears in Northern Kurdish as the vowel e or a attached to the end of a verb. 

More is said about this clitic in § 4.4.1.2.

61 

(4) min guh li te ne bî. (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:193) 

1O hear at 2O not be.PRS.1SG 

‘I don’t hear you.’ 

(5) heval-êt wî hîvî jê kir-Ø (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:193) 

friend-EZ.PL 3OM hope from.3OM do.PST-3SG 

‘His friend begged him.’ 

(6) te hîvî ji min kir-Ø (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:193) 

2O hope from 1O do.PST-3SG 

‘You begged me.’ 

Contractions are also found in prepositional phrases outside of their usage in idiomatic 

verbs. 

4.3 Stress 

All nouns and adjectives ending in a consonant are stressed on the last syllable. 

Words that end in a vowel, such as xanê ‘home’ and tinê ‘alone’ often have penultimate 

stress. Usually when a grammatical element such as an oblique (§ 4.4.2.2), ezafe 

conjunctive particle (§ 4.4.2.4.1) or indefinite noun (§ 4.4.2.4.2) suffix is added, whether it 

ends in a consonant or vowel, the primary point of stress does not change. 

For inflected forms of verbs some other rules must be considered. When a verb 

begins with a negative prefix, na- or ne-, the stress falls on the prefix. Other verbal 

elements, which Thackston refers to as preverbs, often receive stress, such as ve-, hilda- 

and wer-. Thackston (2006:4) provides a third rule for verbs that states that modal 

affixes di- and bi- are stressed; however, personally, in my experience, there are many

62 

instances in Iraq where these affixes are unstressed. 39 A fourth rule of Thackston (2006:5) 

states that for verbs that possess no prefix, the stress falls on the last syllable of the verb 

stem. 

4.4 Grammar 

The grammar sketch that follows is not meant to be exhaustive but to provide the 

reader an introduction to Northern Kurdish. My hope is that this will enable the reader to 

become comfortable in perusing the corpus and be able to find answers to most basic 

questions regarding the grammar. The grammar is based on the Bahdini subdialect of 

Northern Iraq, which is the dialect that dominates the corpus. Some differences between 

Bahdini and the Northern Kurdish which is spoken by the Kurds in Turkey and Syria are 

noted within this chapter as well as in Chapter 5. 

4.4.1 Typology 

4.4.1.1 Morphological typology 

According to Whaley (1997:128), morphological typology is understood to vary 

on two parameters: Index of Synthesis and Index of Fusion. The Index of Synthesis 

parameter may be viewed as a continuum where on one end you have the ideal isolating 

language, where every word is monomorphemic. On the other end there is the ideal 

synthetic language, where “complete utterances are formed by affixing morphemes to a 

39 I have observed that in Bahdini this does not seem to be the case. In the examples Thackston lists, diaxive 

and biaxive, ‘talk’ or ‘speak,’ stress is different in each case. In Bahdini of northern Iraq, speakers drop the 

soft i vowel when the modal prefix di- is added to a word stem beginning with a vowel. The sound of dichanges 

to t-. Hence, another syllable is not added but the speaker says taxive with stress on the first 

syllable. This verb, however, is irregular in that the initial syllable is stressed. When the modal prefix bi- is 

added, a speaker will say either biaxive, with no elision of the i after the b, or baxive, as in the case with 

taxive. Stress in the first instance will be on the first syllable of the verb stem, not on the prefix. Also, when 

a modal prefix is added to a word beginning with a consonant, there is no change in the point of stress.

63 

root” (Whaley 1997:128). The following examples show that Northern Kurdish 

characteristically represents more aspects of an isolating language. While some words 

contain affixes (e.g. bi-bin, der-ê, tekî-a, ber-ê, tibil-ên, lev-ên, ve-d-xwar), others do not 

(e.g. nêrgiz, ji, ber, min, têr, şîr), and the language largely consists of separate words. If 

we compare Kurdish to Chinese, a language that has very few affixes, we would say that 

it is a bit more synthetic. 

(7) şîn_bi-b-in nêrgiz ji nu_ve 40 ber der-ê (BS1:11) 

grow_IRR-grow-3PL narcissus from new_again before place-EZ.M 

tekî-a 

ber-ê 

special.music-EZ.F old-OBL.F 

‘May narcissuses grow new again before the door of the old places of worship.’ 

(8) tibil-ên min ji lêv-ên te têr şîr ve-d-xwar-Ø 41 (DD:5) 

finger-EZ.PL 1O from lip-EZ.PL 2O plenty milk drink-IPFV-drink.PST-3SG 

‘My fingers were drinking plenty of milk from your lips.’ 

The second parameter is also best understood as a continuum. On one end is the 

ideal agglutinative language; on the other, the ideal fusional language. Agglutinative 

languages have morphemes that may be easily divided from a word. In fusional 

languages, like Ancient Greek, individual morphemes contain two or more bits of 

meaning. In Whaley’s example, shown in (9), each of the morphemes following the verb 

stem lu hold multiple bits of meaning concerning the verb. 

(9) lu-ō 1S:PRS.ACT.IND (I am releasing) (Whaley 1997:134) 

lu- ōmai 1S:PRS:ACT:SBJV (I should release) 

lu-omai 1S:PRS:PASS:IND (I am being released) 

lu-oimi 1S:PRS:ACT:OPT (I might release) 

lu-etai 3S:PRS:PASS:IND (He is being released) 

40 Possible alternative translation for ji nuve: ‘from now on.’ 

41 The verb vexwin ‘to drink’ allows for the modal prefix di- to be inserted after the ve portion of the verb. 

As noted previously, Thackston (2006:35) calls ve a preverb, as there are many verbs with such an element 

that could stand alone as verbs without the ve. This is not typical, though, of Northern Kurdish verbs. The 

di- prefix usually cannot be inserted but is at the beginning of the verb. It may be that ve, hil and similar 

elements may no longer contain separate semantic data but have become lexicalized and are considered a 

part of the verb stem.

64 

In examples (7) and (8), aspect markers bi- and d- were separable from the verb 

stems, e.g. bi-bin, ve-d-xwar. However, while this feature points toward Northern 

Kurdish being agglutinative, the language does have some fusional features, such as verb 

stem endings, which contain meaning for person and number. Additionally, ezafe 

conjunctive particles and oblique markers contain meaning for gender and number. In 

example (10) below, the -im suffix on the verb ‘make’ contains both person and number 

agreement. The -ê oblique marker on kêk, ‘cake,’ reveals that the noun is both masculine 

and singular, while -ek on kêk indicates the noun is indefinite. With a maximum of two 

bits of meaning being represented within any one morpheme, we can say that the 

morphological typology of Northern Kurdish is less fusional than ancient Greek and that 

it also exhibits some agglutinative features. 

(10) ez kêk-ek-ê çê-di-k-im. (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:70) 

1D cake-INDF-OBL.M make-IPFV-do-1SG 

‘I am making a cake.’ 

4.4.1.2 Constituent order typology 

Another typological parameter of language is constituent order. Scholars, such as 

MacKenzie and Thackston, agree that the basic constituent order of Northern Kurdish is 

SOV, as the following examples indicate. In example (11) biraê min, ‘my brother,’ is the 

subject and comes first in the sentence. The object têştê, ‘breakfast,’ comes second and is 

followed by the verb dixuit, ‘is eating.’ We see the same order in example (12). 

(11) bira-ê min têşt-ê di-xu-it. 

brother-EZ.M 1O breakfast-OBL.F IPFV-eat.PRS-3SG 

‘My brother is eating breakfast.’ 

(12) min çar sêv kirrî-n. 

1O four apple buy.PST-3PL 

‘I bought four apples.’ 

Note that in (12) the verb agrees with the object, not the subject. Northern Kurdish is a 

split-ergative language. Transitive past tense clauses have an ergative construction, where 

there is agreement between the verb and the object (as opposed to accusative construction

65 

where the verb agrees with the subject). For more details on ergativity, see the discussion 

on verbs and the verb phrase in § 4.4.3. 

One other determination that can be made regarding constituent order concerns 

directional complements. In his reference grammar on Northern Kurdish (Kurmanji), 

Thackston (2006) states the following concerning constituent (word) order: 

Full normal word order is: (1) temporal expression, (2) subject, (3) direct 

object, (4) miscellaneous prepositional phrases, (5) verb, (6) directional 

complement. Many other orders are possible, but when any element is 

moved from its normal position it is highlighted or emphasized in some 

way. 

Nicholas Bailey 42 states that the “post-verbal position is reserved for directional 

complements of certain verbs involving motion towards a goal.” He further states that ‘it 

is usually an indirect object of verbs that involve some kind of motion towards the 

indirect object that occurs in that position.” Regarding this position, which he calls GOAL, 

Bailey also states that “this position is thus reserved for only a restricted set of indirect 

objects (i.e., ones usually involving motion).” This restriction, which may have some 

exceptions, may be defined according to the definition of GOAL in Kroeger (2005:54): 

“the destination or end-point of a motion.” 

The examples in (13) and (14) both contain the intransitive verb that means ‘go.’ 

GOAL is a semantic argument of the verb. Notice that in (13) the GOAL, Şingar, a city in 

Northern Iraq near the Syrian border, is preceded by the letter e, which is attached to the 

verb, çum. According to MacKenzie, this letter, which is sometimes written as the letter 

a, is a preposition and should be realized as an enclitic (MacKenzie 1961:198). 

Throughout this paper I refer to this preposition as DIR, short for directional enclitic. In 

(14) an enclitic is not realized because the inflected form of ‘go,’ çu, ends in a vowel. 

MacKenzie (1961:198) also has similar examples in his text where the enclitic does not 

appear. 

42 Personal communication (2012).

66 

(13) havîn bu-Ø çu-m=e Şingar-ê (BS2:1) 

summer COP.PST-3SG go.PST-1SG=DIR Shingar 

‘It was summer (when) I went to Shingar.’ 

(14) kew-ek bu-Ø lê ne-çu-Ø rav-ê (BS7:11) 

partridge-INDF COP.PST-3SG but NEG-go.PST-3SG hunting-OBL.M 

‘He was a partridge but he did not go hunting.’ 

Ditransitive verbs, such as ‘give,’ also require a GOAL. In (15) the GOAL is bîanî, 

‘group of foreigners.’ The GOAL is again preceded by the directional enclitic. 

(15) dê min di-n=e bîanî (BS2:66) 

will 1O give-PRS-3PL=DIR group.of.foreigners 

‘They are going to give me to foreigners.’ 

Lastly, a goal may be metaphoric, as is the situation in example (16). In this poem 

Ahmed Nalbend is not actually talking about slavery but of his desire for a particular 

woman. The verb bum, ‘I became,’ has to do with a metaphoric transition to another 

state. It too has an aspect of metaphorically moving towards something and, therefore, 

also requires use of the directional enclitic, e. 

(16) ez bu-m=e xidam (AN5:34) 

1D become.PST-1SG=DIR slave 

‘I became a slave…’ 

For more examples and further discussion on the directional enclitic, see § 4.4.3.1 where I 

have provided some of my personal research on the subject. 

4.4.2 Nouns and the noun phrase 

4.4.2.1 Nouns 

Nouns in Northern Kurdish are masculine, feminine or neuter. Nouns that are 

neuter are either masculine or feminine, depending on the use of the noun in a sentence. 

The gender may be revealed by means of an ezafe conjunctive particle or oblique suffix, 

discussed in § 4.4.2.4. For example, the word heval means ‘friend.’ If you are referring to 

a female friend of yours, you would say hevala min, ‘my friend,’ using the feminine ezafe 

particle, -a, to connect the possessive pronoun, min, ‘me.’

67 

Gender can only be learned through memorization and language use, as no aspect 

of a noun reveals its gender. One might find that certain classifications are predominately 

of a certain gender, such as fruits, which are generally feminine. However, it is primarily 

through use of the language that one becomes proficient in applying masculine and 

feminine particles and markers. 

4.4.2.2 Noun inflection 

Nouns are inflected in two cases, direct, also referred as nominative case, and 

oblique. In nominative-accusative languages the subject is the most agent-like argument 

of transitive verbs. It is therefore considered to be in the nominative, or direct, case. 

Objects, as the most patient-like argument, are considered to be in the accusative case. As 

inactive elements they are considered to be in the oblique case. Other inactive elements 

are also considered to be in the oblique case, such as possessors, post-verbal arguments, 

objects of prepositions, and locations. In Northern Kurdish, the direct case is left 

unmarked, while the oblique case only has one case marking for a number of cases. 

Oblique may be viewed as a collective term for a number of case markings found in 

languages, such as dative, ablative, and locative (MacKenzie 1961:153). 

As mentioned, Northern Kurdish is a split-ergative language where past transitive 

clauses follow an ergative-absolutive system of grammar. Subjects of past transitive 

clauses are said to be in the ergative case; these are marked as oblique. Objects in past 

transitive clauses are said to be in the absolutive case. These are considered to be in the 

direct case and are not marked. Intransitive clauses, having only one argument, are 

always considered to be in the direct case. 

The examples in (17) to (19) show the unmarking of nouns in the direct case and 

the marking of nouns in the oblique case. The oblique case is marked with a feminine, -ê, 

masculine, -î, or plural, -a or -an, marker. In (17), a transitive present-tense sentence, the 

subject medîr, ‘owner,’ is in the unmarked direct case. The object kurk, ‘boy,’ is marked 

with a masculine oblique marker, -î. In (18), an intransitive sentence, the subject, again 

medîr, is correctly left unmarked, in the direct case. Again, this will be true for all

68 

intransitive clauses. In (19), zelam, ‘man,’ is the subject of a past-tense transitive 

sentence, and is correctly marked with a masculine oblique marker -î. The object sêv, 

‘apple,’ is in the direct case and left unmarked. 

(17) medîr kurk-î di-bîn-it 

owner boy-OBL.M IPFV-see-PRS-3SG 

‘The owner sees the boy.’ 

(18) medîr hat-Ø 

Şivan come.PST-3SG 

‘Şivan came.’ 

(19) zelam-î sêv xwar-Ø 

man-OBL.M apple eat.PST-3SG 

‘The man ate the apple.’ 

In exception to these rules are the few irregular verbs wherein the object is always in the 

direct case. 

Nouns also take the oblique case when they are in a prepositional phrase or a 

GOAL (as per the discussion on this subject in § 4.4.1.2 on basic constituent order). In (20), 

the subject Bêbîn, a woman’s name, is marked with the feminine oblique marker, -ê. 

Rezbar is also a woman’s name. As the object of the preposition bu, it is correctly marked 

with a feminine oblique marker. In (21), sîk is a GOAL, a post-verbal argument. It, too, is 

correctly marked as an oblique. 

(20) Bêbîn-ê ew kirrî-Ø bu Rezbar-ê 

Beybeen-OBL.F 3D buy.PAST-3SG for Rezbar-OBL.F 

‘Beybeen bought it for Rezbar.’ 

(21) Şivan çu-Ø sîk-ê 

Shivan go.PST-1SG market-OBL.F 

‘Shivan went to the market.’ 

Some exceptions to these rules for oblique case are presented in § 4.4.2.3 on personal 

pronouns and § 4.4.2.4 on noun modification. 

So, in review of the above, the direct case is never marked, while the oblique case 

is marked with a suffix that matches the number and gender of the noun: -î for masculine, 

-ê for feminine. If a noun in the oblique case is plural, it is marked with the non-gender

69 

specific marker, -an or -a, depending on subdialect. There is one exception to this rule. 

Speakers of Northern Kurdish in Turkey do not mark masculine obliques (Thackston 

2006:8). This exception will be revisited in Chapter 5 when discussing examples of 

Cegerxwîn, whose dialect is from Turkey, not Iraq. 

4.4.2.3 Personal pronouns 

One exception to the rules for oblique case endings is the use of personal 

pronouns. Northern Kurdish has two sets of personal pronouns: one for direct case, the 

other for oblique case. Both sets are as listed in Table 4. 

Table 4. 

Personal pronouns 

Personal Pronouns Direct Case Oblique Case 

1SG ez min 

2SG tu te 

3SG ew (m/f) wî (m) or wê (f) 

1PL em me 

2PL hîn or huîn hewe or we 

3PL ew wan 

REFL 

xwe or xu 

Below are some examples using personal pronouns. Examples (22) and (23) 

contain both direct case and oblique case pronouns. In (23) Babî, the recipient, is in the 

oblique case, as was discussed in section 4.4.1.2 on constituent order typology. Example 

(24) illustrates the reflexive pronoun xwe, which always refers to the subject within the 

clause in which it is found. Additionally, notice that the prepositional phrase does not end 

with an oblique suffix. A suffix is unnecessary as the phrase ends with an oblique case 

personal pronoun. The semantic categorization of possession is always expressed by 

personal pronouns of the oblique case. 

(22) min tu dît-î 

1O 2D see.PST-2SG 

‘I saw you.’

70 

(23) ez dê wan da-m=e Bab-î 

1D will 3OP give.PRS-1SG=DIR 43 Father-OBL.M. 

‘I will give them to Father.’ 

(24) Sîlev-ê pertûk-êt xwe kirr-în ji dikan-a mam-ê min 

Seeluv-OBL.F book-EZ.PL REFL buy.PST-3PL from store-EZ.F uncle-EZ.M 1O 

‘Seeluv bought her books from my uncle’s store.’ 

According to Thackston (2006:18), it is usually necessary to express subject 

pronouns. However, in some instances, subject pronouns may be left unexpressed in 

certain contexts. 

4.4.2.4 Noun modification 

Northern Kurdish has both prenominal and postnominal modification. Most 

postnominal modification occurs via the ezafe conjunctive particle. The term ezafe comes 

from the Arabic word iḍāfat, which means “addition” or “supplement.” Haig states that 

“within Iranian linguistics it is used to refer to an unstressed vocalic particle which occurs 

between a noun and an adjective or other nominal modifier” (Haig 2011:363). 

Prenominal modification consists of numbers, intensifiers and demonstratives. Such 

modification does not require any additional particle or connecting word. 

4.4.2.4.1 Ezafe conjunctive particle 

The ezafe conjunctive particle is predominately used to connect postnominal 

modifiers to head nouns. Such modifiers consist of other nouns, pronouns, adjectives and 

prepositional phrases. While some Indo-Iranian languages have only a single form of the 

ezafe particle, Northern Kurdish has masculine, feminine and plural forms. As well, in 

specific situations after an initial ezafe particle has been used, a different ezafe form is 

used, which I will refer to as ezafe for secondary construct. Such ezafes are commonly 

written as separate words, whereas ezafes for primary constructs are particles attached to 

head nouns. Some researchers have written about other uses of the ezafe conjunctive 

43 The DIR directional enclitic signifies that the action being performed is going toward something. In the 

case of (23), Babî, ‘Father,’ is the RECIPIENT or GOAL of the action.

71 

particle, such as in relativization. 44 A thorough discussion of all of the functions of the 

ezafe conjunctive particle is outside the focus of this paper. 

The following table summarizes the ezafe forms. The different plural forms reflect 

dialect differences. The forms -ên and -yên tend to be the standard for writing. 

Table 5. 

Forms of the ezafe conjunctive particle 

masculine feminine plural 

Ezafes for primary constructs -ê -a -êt or -ên 

Ezafes for secondary constructs -yê -ya -yêt or -yên 

In example (25), the feminine ezafe particle, -a, is attached to the end of the head noun 

sêv, ‘apple.’ Its modifier is the adjective mezin, ‘big.’ 

(25) min sêv-a mezin xwar-Ø 

1O apple-EZ.F big eat.PST-3SG 

‘I ate the large apple.’ 

An example of a noun phrase (NP) modifying a noun is presented below in (26). Here an 

NP consisting of a demonstrative wî, 3OM, and a noun welat, ‘country,’ modifies the word 

mirov, ‘person.’ We know that mirov is the plural form, ‘people,’ because of the plural 

ezafe particle. Notice too that when an NP is in the oblique state and ends in a noun, the 

oblique marker goes on the final noun, in this case the word welat. The oblique marker 

must match the gender and number of the noun to which it is attached, not that of the 

head noun of the clause. 

(26) mirov-ên wî welat-î (Thackston 2006:12) 

person-EZ.PL 3OM country-OBL.M 

‘the people of that country’ 

Example (24), repeated below in (27), shows the usage of singular and plural 

ezafe conjunctive particles, each matching the gender and number of the word to which 

they are connected. The first ezafe is on the word pertûk, ‘book.’ The ezafe is plural and 

44 Regarding Northern Kurmanji, Haig writes, “Ezafe has retained many of the features of its 

Old Iranian ancestor, including relativizer, demonstrative and nominalizer functions. The Northern Kurdish 

ezafe has also extended its distribution from the nominal into the verbal domain” (Haig, 2011: 363). See 

also MacKenzie (1961), Sweetnam (2005), and Thackston (2006).

72 

connects the modifying reflexive pronoun xwe, which refers to the subject, Sîlev, a female 

name. In the prepositional phrase ji dikana mamê min, ‘from my uncle’s store,’ there are 

two head nouns, dikan, ‘store,’ and mam, ‘uncle.’ Mam is a head noun modified by min, 

1O. The noun phrase mamê min modifies dikan. In this instance an ezafe for secondary 

construct, -yê, is not used, as the second ezafe is used to connect the modifier min to 

mam, not dikan. 

(27) Sîlev-ê pertûk-êt xwe kirr-în ji dikan-a mam-ê min 

Seeluv-OBL.F book-EZ.PL REFL buy.PST-3PL from store-EZ.F uncle-EZ.M 1O 

‘Seeluv bought her books from my uncle’s store.’ 

To add another noun, pronoun or adjective to modify a head noun, an ezafe for a 

secondary construct must be used. In the following example wî, ‘him,’ is a possessive 

pronoun modifying çav, ‘eye.’ The plural ezafe -êt connects the modifier to the head 

noun. A second modifier of çav is the word şîn, ‘blue,’ and it is connected by means of 

the ezafe for a secondary construct, -yêt. Thus, both wan and şîn modify çav. 

(28) çav-êt wî yêt şîn 

eye-EZ.PL 

‘his blue eyes’ 

3OM EZ2.PL blue 

Regarding situations that require use of an ezafe for secondary constructs, Thackston 

writes: 

The extenders [ezafes for secondary constructs] are used (1) to add a 

modifying noun to a noun-adjective construct, (2) to link an adjective 

modifying the first noun in a noun-noun construct, and (3) to add an 

additional adjective to a noun-adjective construct. (Thackston 2006:15) 

In the instance of example (28), an ezafe for a secondary construct is required because an 

adjective is being added to a noun-noun construct. 

As mentioned above, an ezafe can also be used to connect a modifying 

prepositional phrase (PP). In the following example the PP ji tenîra xwe, ‘from her bread 

over,’ modifies nan, ‘bread.’ 

(29) Vîan dê nan-ê ji tenîr-a xwe d-et te 

Veeyan will bread-EZ.M from bread.oven-EZ.F REFL give.PRS-3SG 2O 

‘Veeyan will give you bread from her bread oven.’

73 

The discussion above summarizes the uses of the ezafe conjunctive particle relevant to 

the corpus of poems. 

4.4.2.4.2 Indefinite state particle 

Nouns that are considered to have an indefinite state take the suffix -ek. Without 

this particle a noun is assumed to be in a definite state. The -ek suffix is always attached 

before adding an oblique case marker or ezafe conjunctive particle. In example (30) we 

know that qelem, ‘pen,’ has an indefinite state because it has the suffix -ek. In (31) the 

store, dikan, that Ẍafor (the man’s name) will build, being in the indefinite state, has the - 

ek marker. It is followed by the singular feminine ezafe particle, -a, which connects the 

modifier nuî, ‘new,’ to the head noun. 

(30) Amîna-yê qelem-ek kirrî-Ø? 

Ameena-OBL.F pen-INDF have.PRS.3SG 

‘Did Ameena buy a pen?’ 

(31) Ẍafor dê dikan-ek-a nuî ava_kit-Ø 

Ghafor will store-INDF-EZ.F new build.PRS-3SG 

‘Ghafor will build a new store.’ 

4.4.2.4.3 Specific reference marker 

Speakers of the Bahdini subdialect of Northern Kurdish also have a noun particle 

that is used by a speaker when wanting the hearer to know that he or she has something 

specific in mind. For example, you desire to purchase a specific type of chair. Entering a 

store it would be appropriate for you to say to the store owner: 

(32) Min kurskîk-ek-he di-vê-t 

1O chair-INDF-SRM IPFV-want.PRS-3SG 

‘I want (to buy) a chair.’ 

The owner of the store now knows that even though you don’t know exactly which chair 

you want, you do have a specific type of chair in mind. This specific reference marker 

(SRM) -he, or -e, must, like the oblique case marker, always follow an indefinite state 

sufffix (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:186).

74 

I have encountered in the corpus one other type of SRM (or possibly two) that I 

have never read about in any other research on Northern Kurdish. Due to a lack of data, I 

must leave the subject open for future research. 45 

4.4.2.5 Numbers, quantifiers and intensifiers 

Numbers, quantifiers and intensifiers that directly modify a noun never get added 

by means of an ezafe conjunctive particle but come before the noun, as the following 

examples show. In (33) the number du, ‘two,’ modifies nan, ‘bread.’ In (34) the 

quantifier gelek, ‘much’ or ‘a lot,’ modifies îprax, a traditional food of Kurds and other 

nearby cultures. 

(33) Min du nan xwar-in 

1O two bread eat.PST-3PL 

‘I ate two (loaves of) bread.’ 

(34) Rezbar gelek îprax-ê çê-di-kit 

Rezbar much îprax 46 -OBL.F make-IPFV-do.PRS-3SG 

‘Rezbar is making a lot of îprax.’ 

4.4.2.6 Demonstratives 

Demonstratives also have both direct and oblique cases, as shown in Table 6. 

When a demonstrative is to be used as a determiner, it must be in the oblique case. The 

oblique case demonstratives for near, ‘this,’ and far, ‘that,’ have both masculine and 

feminine forms. 

45 For those interested in the subject, I would refer you to line 60 of Sindî’s Gerîanek. The SRM for further 

research is the -î on the word ev. According to my consultant it has to do with the fact that the thing you’re 

talking about belongs to someone else, not yourself. 

46 A traditional dish, also called dolma, made of cabbage, grape leaves and other vegetables that are stuffed 

with rice, spices and sometimes meat.

75 

Table 6. 

Demonstratives. 

Demonstrative Direct Case Oblique Case 

this (M) 

this (F) 

ev 

vî 

vê 

that (M) 

that (F) 

ew 

wî 

wê 

these ev van 

those ew wan 

The following examples show some uses of demonstratives. In (35) wê, 3OF, 

defines which book the speaker is referring to. Notice that the oblique marker, -ê, on 

kitêb, ‘book,’ is the same as the vowel in wê. This will always be so when the noun 

requires an oblique marker; the demonstrative and the oblique marker on the head noun 

will always match in gender and number. Example (36) shows an example of the near, 

plural demonstrative, van, ‘these,’ modifying the noun, qelam, ‘pen,’ which is marked 

with the plural oblique suffix, -a. 

(35) wê kitêb-ê bi-d-e Azad-î (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:47) 

3OF book-OBL.F IRR-give-IMP.SG Azad-OBL.M 

‘Give Azad that book.’ 

(36) van qelem-a ji_bîr_ne-k-e (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:47) 

3OPN pen-OBL.PL forget-NEG-do-IMP.SG 

‘Don’t (you-SG) forget these pens.’ 

In the previous two examples, the demonstratives were used as adjectives. In (37) 

ev, 3DN, is used as a pronoun in an attributive phrase. 

(37) ev-e min=e 

3DN-EMPH 1O=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘This is mine.’ 

In (38) ev is used as an adjective, modifying pertûk, ‘book.’ Following pertûk is the rest 

of the NP, a feminine ezafe, -a, connecting the prepositional phrase di destê te da, ‘in 

your hand.’

76 

(38) ev pertûk-a di dest-ê te da 47 

3DN book-EZ.F in hand-EZ.F 2O in 

‘this book in your hand’ 

4.4.2.7 The adjective phrase 

Adjectival modifiers are not connected by means of an ezafe conjunctive particle 

when they are in an adjective phrase (AdjP) that is independent of a head noun. They 

simply precede the adjective they modify. In (39) gelek, in this instance an intensifier 

meaning ‘very,’ modifies baş, ‘good.’ The AdjP gelek baş is the attribute of the 

attributive clause, not a part of the noun phrase (NP) ev pertûk, 3DN ‘book.’ Hence, there 

is no ezafe conjunctive particle on the word pertûk. 

(39) ev pertûk gelek baş=e 

3DN book very good=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘This book is very good.’ 

When an AdjP is part of an NP, an ezafe conjunctive particle is used to connect 

the AdjP to the head noun. In (40) the masculine ezafe -ê is followed by the modifying 

AdjP, gelek xirab, ‘very bad.’ 

(40) dem-ek-ê gelek xirab 

time-INDF-EZ.F very-EZ.M bad 

‘a very bad time’ 

In the case where there are two adjectives in the AdjP, the adjectives are simply joined by 

the conjunction u, as shown in example (41). 

(41) ev sêv şirîn u tirş=e 

3DN apple sweet and tart=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘This apple is sweet and tart.’ 

4.4.2.8 The noun phrase 

Nicholas Bailey (2011) summarizes the noun phrase of Northern Kurdish as: 

47 The postposition da is commonly used in conjunction with di to mean ‘in’ or ‘to.’ While most 

adpositions in Northern Kurdish are prepositions, there are some postpositions and usually these are used in 

conjunction with prepositions.

77 

NP = (DEM)(NUM) head-noun ( [ EZP [ NP/ADJP ] ] ) 

The introduction of the ezafe conjunctive particle phrase (EZP) is beyond the 

scope of this paper. In fact, in the Bahdini subdialect, and perhaps other Northern 

Kurdish subdialects, there are other functions of the ezafe particle that have not been 

covered in this sketch. However, for the purposes of this paper, the noun phrase 

represented above is sufficient in most instances. Bailey adds the following to what has 

already been discussed: a demonstrative (DEM) must precede a number (NUM). 

Additionally, the representation shows clearly that a post-ezafe phrase must be either an 

NP or an ADJP. 

In (42) the noun phrase begins with a modifying ADJP consisting of a determiner 

ew, 3D, and the number du, ‘two.’ Postpositionally modifying pertuk, ‘book,’ are the 

color şîn, ‘blue,’ and an ADJP consisting of the intensifier gelek, ‘very,’ and the adjective 

mezin, ‘large.’ An ezafe for a secondary construct is needed for the ADJP to jointly 

modify pertuk. 

(42) ew du pertuk-êt şîn yê gelek mezin bu min b-în-e 

3D two book-EZ.PL blue EZ2.M very large for 1O IRR-bring-IMP.SG 

‘Bring me those two very large blue books.’ 

4.4.3 Verbs and the verb phrase 

4.4.3.1 Verb morphology 

As mentioned, Northern Kurdish is a split-ergative language, as attested by 

MacKenzie (1961), Thackston (2006), Şirîn and Buşra (2006), and many other scholars. 

Intransitive sentences and most non-past transitive sentences use a nominative-accusative 

agreement pattern. Past tense transitive sentences and some irregular verbs use ergativeabsolutive 

agreement. Past and non-past verb stems often differ, and there are some verbs 

that are irregular wherein the suffix rules do not apply. Verbs may also have an 

imperfective, irrealis or negative aspect affix, and in some instances both a negation 

word, ne (like the affix), and an imperfective aspect affix are used.

78 

4.4.3.2 Verb agreement 

Verbs in nominative-accusative sentences agree with the subject in person and 

number, while verbs in ergative-absolutive sentences agree with the person and number 

of the object. The following examples illustrate these differences. In (43), a present tense 

transitive sentence, the verb, bînim, ‘I see,’ having the 1SG ending -im, agrees with the 

subject ez, 1D. Example (44) is in the past tense; the verb ending, again -im, agrees with 

the object ez, 1D. Examples (45) and (46) are two more examples of present and past 

tense sentences showing verb agreement. Example (47) shows a past tense intransitive 

sentence. Intransitive verbs are always in the nominative case, agreeing with the subject. 

Northern Kurdish does have some irregular verbs that always follow ergative-absolutive 

agreement; these are discussed in § 4.4.3.5. 

(43) ez wî bîn-im 

1D 3OM see.PRS-1SG 

‘I see him.’ 

(44) te ez dît-im 

2O 1D see.PST-1SG 

‘You saw me.’ 

(45) Cemal nan-î firoş-it 

Jemal nan-OBL.M sell.PRS-3SG 

‘Jemal sells bread.’ 

(46) Dapîr-ê çend sêv kirrî-n 

grandmother-OBL.F some apple buy.PST-3PL 

‘The grandmother bought some apples.’ 

(47) ez çu-m=e Dohuk-ê 

1D 

go.PST-1SG=DIR Dohuk-OBL.F 

‘I went to Dohuk.’ 

Verb suffixes are summarized in Table 7 according to the parameters of the tense 

of the verb and the final phonemic segment of the stem. These endings are generally what 

you will hear in the Bahdini subdialect of Northern Kurdish. Resources on Northern 

Kurdish reveal that the language varies from area to area. This is true for aspects of the 

language other than verbs. The endings for non-past and past tenses vary only in the third 

person singular.

79 

Table 7. 

Verb suffixes 

Non-past 

Past 

person & number Post consonant Post vowel Post consonant Post vowel 

1SG -im -m -im -m 

2SG -î -î -î -î 

3SG -it -t -Ø -Ø 

1PL -în -în -în -în 

2PL & 3PL -in -n -in -n 

The future tense is periphrastic, employing the word dê. It appears immediately 

after the subject, but before the object, as illustrated in (48). The subject Şirîn, a woman’s 

name, is followed by dê, ‘will’ and then the object birinc, ‘rice.’ The verb çêkit, ‘make,’ 

is last in the sentence. In (49) dê is found next to the verb because this is an intransitive 

sentence and no object or prepositional phrase occurs. The GOAL argument, mala te, ‘your 

house,’ follows the verb, its normal position. 

(48) Şirîn dê birincê çê_k-it 

Shireen will rice-OBL.F make_do.PRS-3SG 

Shireen will make rice. 

(49) em dê ê-în mal-a te (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:185) 

1DP will come.PRS-1PL house-EZ.F 2O 

‘We will come to your house.’ 

To negate a sentence in the future tense, one must drop the word dê and insert the 

negative affix where appropriate. This contrast is shown in the following examples. In 

(51), the negative aspect affix, na, must be inserted between the two parts of the complex 

verb. There is therefore nothing in the sentence to signify future tense; it is understood 

from the context. 

(50) ez dê nan-î çê-k-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:165) 

1D will bread-OBL.M make-do.PRS-1SG 

‘I will make bread.’ 

(51) ez nan-î çê-na-k-im 

1D bread-OBL.M make-NEG-do.PRS-1SG 

‘I won’t make bread.’

80 

4.4.3.3 Verb stems and their conjugations 

For each verb, there are usually two distinct stems, one past and the other nonpast. 

One pair of stems is axift/axiv, ‘speak’ (or ‘say’). To say ‘they spoke,’ the speaker 

uses the past stem axift, 48 together with the third person, plural ending -in, ew axift-in. To 

say ‘They speak,’ the non-past stem, axiv, is required: ew axiv-in. In English, we see 

similar differences, such as ate/eat and went/go in which a different stem is used 

depending on whether an utterance is in past or non-past tense. 

Verb stems ending in a vowel take a slightly different set of suffixes (see Table 7 

above). For example, the past stem of ‘to (cause to) boil (transitive)’ is kelandî. To say, ‘I 

boiled the potatoes,’ a speaker would say min patat kelandîn. The verb agrees with the 

plural object, taking the third person, plural ending -n. 

4.4.3.4 Copulas – present, future and past tenses 

The primary copula word is best considered as an irregular form of the verb bin, 

‘be.’ The past stem is bu (or bû or bî) while the non-past stem can be described as a zero 

(Ø) form, which takes just the bare person suffixes, as listed in Table 8. These forms are 

usually written as being adjoined to preceding words. 

Table 8. 

Present tense irregular copulas 

person & number post consonant post vowel 

1SG -im me 

2SG -î -î 

3SG -e ye 

1PL -în ne 

2PL & 3PL -in ne 

Examples with present tense copulas are as follows. In (52) the first person, singular 

copula is attached to the adjective birsî, ‘hungry.’ The third person, singular copula is 

48 Most dictionaries list verbs in the PST.3PL form, including the PST.3PL root in the listing.

81 

attached to the adjective cuan in example (53). Because this present tense copula behaves 

as an enclitic, i.e. it behaves grammatically as a word but phonologically as a suffix, the 

equal sign, =, is used in our glossing system. The copula is often written as a separate 

word by writers of Northern Kurdish outside Iraq. However, writers in Iraq tend to attach 

the copula to the ends of words. 

(52) ez birsî=me 

1D hungry=COP.PRS.1SG 

‘I’m hungry.’ 

(53) maḧfîr-a te cuan=e 

rug-EZ.F 2O beautiful=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘Your rug is beautiful.’ 

Besides the present tense copula illustrated above (as a zero form), there is also a 

copula stem b, ‘be.’ Non-past forms of b are summarized in Table 9. 

Table 9. 

Conjugations of non-past copula b 

person & number present future 

1SG bim dê…bim 

2SG bî dê…bî 

3SG bit dê…bit 

1PL bîn dê…bîn 

2PL & 3PL bin dê…bin 

Many of the uses of this ‘be’ word appear as part of complex predicates, which I discuss 

in § 4.4.3.6. Hence, some uses of b may not be considered copular. Additionally, only the 

regular forms of this word can take an irrealis, imperfective or negative affix (see 

§ 4.4.3.7 on aspect, mood and negation). Such instances can have the sense of ‘become,’ 

as example (54) shows. 

(54) mêz-a wê delal-tir di-b-it (HS:18) 

table-EZ.F 3OF graceful-more IPFV-become.PRS-3SG 

‘Her table becomes more graceful.’ 

As mentioned, future tense consists of the word dê in conjunction with a regular 

conjugation of a present tense verb root. For the copula, the same non-past stem b is used, 

also shown in Table 9. Example (55), an attributive clause, shows dê with the conjugated

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copula word, bit. Notice that dê is not positioned next to the verb, but is after the subject 

and before the attribute. If a speaker chooses to omit a subject, because it is understood in 

the context of conversation, the first word in the sentence will be dê. 

(55) ew dê qehrî b-it 

3D will sad COP.PRS-1SG 

‘He will be sad.’ 

In (56) it is necessary for the equative element dixtur, ‘doctor,’ to be positioned after the 

verb, as it is the occupation, or status, the person is moving towards. This phrase supports 

the argument for an SOV-GOAL constituent order. Also present is the DIR directional 

enclitic which is cliticized to the copula. 

(56) tu dê b-î=a dixtur 

2D will COP.PRS-2SG=DIR doctor 

‘You will become a doctor.’ 

The past tense copula makes use of the past stem of ‘be,’ which is also written as 

a separate word. In some subdialects the stem is bu (or bû); in others, it is bî. In Table 10, 

the conjugations generally follow the normal application of past tense suffixes as defined 

in Table 7. 

Table 10. Past tense copulas 

person & number 

1SG 

2SG 

3SG 

1PL 

2PL & 3PL 

conjugated copula 

bîm or bum 

bî or buî 

bî or bu 

bîn or buîn 

bîn or bun 

Below are some example sentences with past tense copulas. 

(57) ez betal bu-m 

1D bored COP.PST-1SG 

‘I was bored.’ 

(58) tu bi keyf bî-Ø 

2D with happiness COP.PST-2SG 

‘You were happy?’

83 

(59) ew dixtur bî-Ø 

3D doctor COP.PST.3SG 

‘S/he was the doctor.’ 

(60) Tu dergeh bu-î (BS7:15) 

2D door COP.PST-2SG 

‘You were the door.’ 

4.4.3.5 Irregular verbs 

Above I discussed the irregular non-past copula forms. Northern Kurdish has 

some other verbs that have irregularities. Below are the most common of these. 

The verb vîa/vê, ‘want’ (past stem/present stem) is a transitive verb that always 

uses an ergative-absolutive agreement system. For this verb, the most subject-like 

constituent, a semantic experiencer, is always expressed by the oblique case, whatever 

the tense. Examples (61) and (62) illustrate both present and past utterances. In both 

sentences the subject is the oblique case personal pronoun min, 1O. The object, the 

possessed entity, is in the direct case, having no oblique suffix. The verb in each sentence 

agrees with the object. The plurality of sêv, ‘apple,’ in (62) is handled by the verb 

agreement, whereas in other situations, such as present tense conjugations of regular 

verbs, plurality is handled by means of a plural oblique suffix. 

(61) min sêv-ek di-vê-t 

1O apple-INDF IPFV-want.PRS-3SG 

‘I want an apple.’ 

(62) min hindek sêv vîa-n 

1O some apple want.PST-3PL 

I wanted some apples. 

The other common transitive verb with ergative-absolutive agreement in all tenses 

is hebû(hebî)/heb, often translated as ‘have.’ However, hebû/heb may also be used for 

non-possessive, existential usages, such as the English ‘There is…’ or ‘I exist.’ The 

present and past irregular forms are summarized in Table 11.

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Table 11. Non-possessive existential verbs (Thackston 2006:31) 

person present tense past tense 

1SG heme hebûm 

2SG heyî hebûyî 

3SG heye hebû 

1, 2, 3PL hene hebûn 

The following is one example of an intransitive usage of this verb. 

(63) Gotin-ek-e pêşi-yên me heye (Thackston 2006:31) 

saying-INDF-EZ.M ancestor-EZ.PL 1OP exist.PRS.3SG 

‘There is a saying of our ancestors.’ 

Table 12 provides the more common forms for transitive uses of hebû/heb. Here 

we can see that the forms are different for questions than for statements or negations. 

There are also irregular forms for negated verbs. 

Table 12. Irregular forms of hebû/heb in the present tense (Şirîn 2002:6) 

Type of sentence Number Form of verb 

statement 

SG 

hey 

PL 

heyn 

question 

SG 

heye 

PL 

hene 

negative 

SG 

nîne 

PL 

nînin 

Thackston (2006:31-2) also calls hebû/heb an “existential verb” and states that 

Northern Kurdish “expresses possession by the possessive construct followed by the 

appropriate third person of the existential verb heye, ‘there is,’ hene, ‘there are,’ hebû, 

‘there was,’ or hebûn, ‘there were.’ Example (64) is one present tense example from his 

grammar on the language that illustrates this sort of possession. The pronoun wî, 3OM, 

which expresses the possessor, modifies zarok, ‘child’ (what is possessed), and is 

connected to the noun by the plural ezafe conjunctive particle -ên.

85 

(64) pênc zarok-ên wî hene (Thackston 2006:32) 

five child-EZ.PL 3OM exist.PRS.3PL 

‘He has five children.’ or more literally, ‘There are five children of him.’ 

Examples in Şirîn’s language learning series (2006) agree with Thackston’s 

explanation. The only difference, which may only be common to those who speak the 

Bahdini subdialect, is that the possessive pronoun may appear sentence initially, as if it 

were the subject. Consider example (65) from Şirîn. Here the NP that expresses the 

possessed entity has the masculine ezafe particle, -ê. The noun qelem, ‘pen,’ however is 

seemingly without a modifier. I have observed that this is the common order of words for 

this statement in the Bahdini subdialect. 

(65) min qelem-ek-ê hey (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:103) 

1O pen-INDF-EZ.M exist.PRS.3SG 

‘I have a pen.’ 

Interestingly, the future and past tenses (in the Bahdini subdialect) follow the 

normal conjugations for verbs, and the object does not exhibit the possessive construct 

via the ezafe particle. This is evident in both Thackston’s and Şirîn’s examples for 

present and past tense. The following examples are from Şirîn’s grammar reference cards 

(2002:6). Past tense verbs (not shown) use the stem for past tense, hebû (or hebî). 

Example (67) shows how the present stem, heb, does not appear in a negated form. The 

verb is glossed as ‘be.’ 

(66) min kitêb dê heb-it 

1O book will have.PRS-3SG 

‘I will have the book.’ 

(67) wê êdî biçîk na-b-in 

3OF ever child NEG-be.PRS-3PL 

‘She will never have children.’ 

The last two common verbs that exhibit irregular form are hat/ê, ‘come,’ and 

îna/în, ‘bring’ or ‘take.’ For both verbs the imperfective aspect marker, di- (see 

§ 4.4.3.7.1) appears, and is thus written, as a t-. The i in di- elides and the d takes on the 

feature of –voice. Examples (68) and (69) from Şirîn show each verb with imperfective 

aspect.

86 

(68) her dem ew se’et çar t-ê-t (Şirîn 2002:7) 

all time 3D hour four IPFV-come.PRS-3SG 

‘He always comes at 4:00.’ 

(69) her roj ew çiklêt-a t-în-it (Şirîn 2002:7) 

every day 3D candy-EZ.PL IPFV-bring.PRS-3SG 

‘She brings candies every day.’ 

Another irregularity of the verb pair hat/ê is its imperative forms. For singular 

commands, one would say, were. For plural commands, one would say weren. The verb 

pair çû/ç, ‘go,’ also has irregular singular and plural imperatives, herre and herren, 

respectively. 

4.4.3.6 Complex predicates (complex verbs) 

Many predicates in Northern Kurdish are complex, having two or more parts. The 

first may be referred to as the nonverbal element, which may be a noun, an adjective, an 

adverb, a prepositional phrase, or a particle. The second part is what is often referred to 

as a ‘light’ verb. The most common light verbs are bû/b/Ø, ‘be,’ and kir/k, ‘do, make.’ 

These verbs may be used independent of nonverbal elements. However, when they are 

used with nonverbal elements, they only fulfill part of the verbal expression. 

Some complex predicates may or may not be written as one word, although 

syntactically the nonverbal element forms a verb phrase with the light verb. As an idiom, 

although the phrase is composed of more than one word, it nevertheless has a single 

meaning. The nonverbal element cannot be conjugated, and, other than an aspect affix, 

nothing can occur between the nonverbal element and the light verb. In many complex 

predicates having a noun as the nonverbal element, the noun is not considered the object 

in the sentence but part of the verb. 

Examples (70) through (72) illustrate usages of complex predicates having a 

single nonverbal element. In (70), the compound verb is xilas kim, ‘I finish.’ The word 

xilas, the nonverbal element of the compound verb phrase, cannot possibly be the object, 

as dersa xwe, ‘my lesson,’ is fulfilling that function. In (71) the compound verb çêdikit, 

‘is making,’ is written as one word having the imperfective aspect di- embedded between

87 

the nonverbal element çê and the light verb kim, ‘(I) do.’ In (72), which is from a line in 

the corpus, the compound verb consists of şîn bibin, ‘may grow.’ 49 In this instance, we 

know that şîn, which by itself can mean ‘green’ or ‘blue,’ is part of the verb and not an 

object because it does not have an oblique suffix. Additionally, the complex verb itself is 

intransitive, having a valence of one. 

(70) ez dê ders-a xwe xilas k-im 

1D will class-EZ.F REFL finish do.PRS-1SG 

‘I finished my lesson.’ 

(71) Wahîda mast-î çê-d-k-it 

Waheeda yogurt-OBL.M make-IPFV-do.PRS-3SG 

‘Waheeda is making yogurt.’ 

(72) şîn_bi-b-in nêrgiz (BS1:11) 

grow_IRR-be.PRS-3PL narcissus 

‘May narcissuses grow… 

Other complex predicates have nonverbal elements that consist of two or more 

words. For example, a common lexical listing of the idiomatic verb ‘hear’ is guh lê bûn, 

where guh is ‘ear,’ lê is a prepositional phrase consisting of li, ‘at’ and wî/wê, ‘he/she,’ 

and the light verb bûn, ‘be.’ This is the verb used in example (73). Notice that in place of 

the contraction lê in the lexical listing, the prepositional phrase, li te, has the 2SG personal 

pronoun. A contraction is only available for 3SG pronouns. In (74) the word ser, ‘visit,’ 

must be followed by an ezafe conjunctive particle and a personal pronoun or proper 

name. These elements separate it from the verb da, ‘give.’ Sera wê, ‘visit of her,’ then, 

functions as the object of the sentence. This example illustrates why a more proper 

lexical listing of sera dan would be to call it a predicate, not just a verb. Lastly, 

concerning xerîb bî, ‘be missing,’ in example (75), while it is true that xerîb, ‘missing,’ is 

always next to the verb bûn, ‘be,’ it is simply an adjective, the attribute in the attributive 

clause. The expression ‘to miss someone’ also demands a prepositional phrase using the 

preposition ji, ‘of,’ such as ji min, ‘of me,’ in (75). In some predicates, such as the one in 

(73), a prepositional phrase must follow a word in the nonverbal element. However, in 

49 The meaning for ‘may’ comes from use of the bi- prefix on bibin, not the word şîn.

88 

this instance in (75), the prepositional phrase must precede the word xerîb. Note as well 

that the valence for the English verb ‘miss’ is two, while the valence in Northern Kurdish 

is one. The same difference in valence is evident in example (73). 

(73) min guh li te ne bî-Ø 

1O ear at 2O NEG COP.PST-3SG 

‘I didn’t hear you.’ 

(74) min ser-a wê da-Ø (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:54) 

1O visit-EZ.F 3OF give.PST-3SG 

‘I visited (and stayed) with her.’ 

(75) tu ji min xerîb bî-Ø 

2D of 1O missing COP.PST-2SG 

‘You missed me.’ 

Complex predicates could easily be the subject of a separate treatise. Suffice it to say that 

the reader should simply be aware of their prevalence in the language. 

4.4.3.7 Aspect, mood and negation 

Aspect, mood and negation are herein discussed together because a verb typically 

only takes one of the affixes associated with these grammatical categories. 

4.4.3.7.1 Imperfective aspect 

The imperfective aspect affix di is the most common of the aspect affixes. In most 

cases it is a prefix; however, for some compound verbs, di (or d) is inserted between the 

two parts of the verb. This is best understood via some examples. 

In (76) di is simply a prefix on the verb çim, ‘I go,’ whereas in (77), only d is 

inserted between the two parts of the compound verb, çêkit, ‘she makes.’ Speakers of the 

Bahdini subdialect tend to metathesize the sound sequence di to id. in order to achieve 

preferred syllable structures. In this instance, the desired syllable structure is CVC. The 

sounds reverse because there is an opportunity to delete the weak vowel. The small i 

finds itself adjacent to a strong vowel―the ê in çê― and the i is not uttered. The d that 

remains becomes the coda for the new syllable çêd. However, in areas where the Latin

89 

script is the standardized orthography, such as in Turkey and Syria, writing the verb in 

(77) as çê dikit is more common, although it is never pronounced as three syllables. 

(76) ez di-ç-im dikan-ê 

1D IPFV-go.PRS-1SG store-OBL.M 

‘I’m going to the store.’ 

(77) Wetfe nan-î çê-d-k-it 

Watfa bread-OBL.M make-IPFV-do-3SG 

‘Watfa is making bread.’ 

4.4.3.7.2 Negation 

Like the other affixes discussed in this section, the negation marker ne, or na, is 

written either as a separate word or as a prefix on a verb. But it may also appear within a 

compound verb, such as çê-na-k-et, ‘he or she does not make.’ Unlike the imperfective 

aspect affix di, the sounds in this affix never undergo metathesis; the vowel is always 

pronounced. Examples from the corpus, shown below in (78) through (80), illustrate 

usage of the negative (NEG) affix/word. 

(78) wî ne-bada-n hizir u bîr (BS1:43) 

3OM NEG-surrender-3PL idea and thought 

‘He did not deviate from (his) ideas and thoughts.’ 

(79) bi-bure ne-şê-m sîtafk-ê bi dest-a (DD:21) 

IRR 50 -sorry.IMP.SG NEG-can.PRS-1SG shadow-OBL.F by hand-OBL.PL 

bi-kir-im 

IRR-do.PRS-1SG 

‘Sorry, I cannot touch the shadow.’ 

(80) teyr-ek îna-n verûçkand-in, nav jê ne çu-Ø (H:4) 

bird-INDF bring.PST-3PL deplume.PST-3PL name from.3OM NEG go.PST-3SG 

‘They brought a bird and deplumed (it), it did not lose its name.’ 

4.4.3.7.3 Irrealis modality 

Irrealis is a term used to describe “situations that were not or are not yet a reality, 

only possibilities” (Whaley 1997:225). The opposite of this, realis, represents those 

50 The discussion on irrealis (IRR) follows in § 4.4.3.7.3.

90 

situations that are or were a reality. The verbal prefix bi- is best understood as a marker 

for irrealis moods (IRR), an umbrella term for a number of mood categories, such as 

subjunctive, conditional, optative, jussive, potential and imperative. In the sections that 

follow, I discuss many of this marker’s multiple functions. 

Unlike the imperfective aspect affix di, which is occasionally inserted within a 

compound verb, the irrealis bi- always appears as a prefix. 51 In situations where di is 

inserted within a complex verb, bi- is never inserted and the exact mood is understood by 

means of the context. Like the imperfective aspect affix, di, the sounds in bi- often 

undergo metathesis, and in some situations the i is not pronounced. Sometimes the i 

disappears in the presence of a strong vowel or melds with a like vowel. Below I discuss 

various situations where this irrealis aspect prefix is used. 

Regarding one irrealis mood, Haiman (1995:329) writes, “Belief in its truth is 

indicative…the wish for its realization, imperative or optative.” Optative describes the 

mood(s) wherein someone expresses what they wish or desire. The following examples 

show the use of the irrealis aspect prefix in expressing wishes. 

(81) bi xêr bi-ç-î 

with blessing IRR-go.PRS-2SG 

‘Go well.’ / ‘May you be blessed as you go.’ 

(82) şîn bi-b-in nêrgiz (BS1:11) 

grow IRR-be.PRS-3PL narcissus 

‘May narcissuses grow… ‘ 

(83) em bi-ç-în (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

1DP IRR-go.PRS-1PL 

‘Let’s (or shall we) go?’ 

(84) Xwedê biçîk-êt te bi-hêl-it (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:238) 

God baby-EZ.PL 2O IRR-keep.PRS-3SG 

‘May God keep (alive) your children.’ 

51 The separate word bi should not be confused with the irrealis marker. It is a preposition usually meaning 

‘with’ or ‘by means of.’

91 

Imperatives and wishes may seem closely related and, perhaps, difficult to 

distinguish at times. Unlike wishes, however, imperatives always have verb endings 

identical to third person indicative endings. Examples (85) through (89) illustrate 

imperatives with the bi- prefix. Example (89) is a negated imperative. Notice that the ne 

prefix supersedes use of the bi- prefix. The command is still obvious because the verb is 

not expressed with the 2SG ending but an ending that is like the 3SG ending. Note also the 

introduction of the word ka in (85) and (87). In these sentences ka more or less means 

“please.” 52 

(85) ka av-ê bi-d-e min 

please water-OBL.F IRR-give.PRS-IMP.SG 1O 

‘Please give me (some) water.’ 

(86) bi-b-e 

IRR-take.PRS-IMP.SG 

‘Take it!’ 

(87) ka lêtir-ek şerbet-ê bi-kirr-e 

please liter-INDF juice-OBL.F IRR-buy.PRS-IMP.SG 

‘Please buy me a liter of juice.’ 

(88) pencer-ê bi-gire 

window-OBL.F IRR-close.PRS-IMP.SG 

‘Close the window.’ 

(89) van qelem-a ji bîr ne k-e (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:47) 

3OPN pen-OBL.PL from memory NEG do. PRS-IMP.SG 

‘Don’t forget these pens.’ 

Irrealis may also express a consultative mood, a request for agreement or some 

other type of response. Example (83), repeated below in (90), may be understood this 

way. In addition to expressing a wish, the speaker is also asking whether another 

speaker(s) is in agreement or not. The same is true of (91), a phrase that is often a 

rhetorical question meaning, “There’s nothing I can do.” Example (92) is different in that 

it is a statement that pragmatically says something like, “Unless you have more to add, I 

will continue.” So rather than being consultative, it would be called permissive, or 

jussive, a mild imperative. 

52 In other situations ka is a question word meaning ‘where.’

92 

(90) em bi-ç-în (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

1DP IRR-go.PRS-1PL 

‘Let’s (or shall we) go?’ 

(91) ez çi bi-k-im 53 (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

1D what IRR-do.PRS-1SG 

‘What shall (can) I do?’ 

(92) bila, ez temam bi-k-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

OK 1D complete IRR-do.PRS-1SG 

‘Let me continue…’ 

In the functions of the bi- prefix that follow, some of them could also be 

considered as having optative mood. I have treated each mood separately because the 

syntax is different in each case. While we are stepping outside the boundary of the 

discussion of the morphology of the verb word, it seems best to keep this portion of the 

discussion of irrealis together. 

4.4.3.7.3.1 Modal verbs 

When a verb is used in conjunction with the modal verbs vîa/vê, ‘want, need’ or 

şîa/şê, ‘can, be able to,’ the bi- prefix is added to that verb. These too are situations that, 

at the moment of desiring or being done, are not realities. The examples in (93) and (94) 

both begin with a subject and a modal verb, which is followed by a complement clause 

containing the present tense root of a verb with the irrealis prefix. In these instances the 

subject is the same for the second verb and, therefore, agrees with it. The modal verbs are 

always ergative, as was discussed in § 4.4.3.5. In (95) we have some distance between the 

modal verb divêt and the verb with irrealis mood, bînim, ‘I bring.’ This is because ez bu 

te bînim, ‘I bring for you,’ is a complement clause that has a different subject, a distinct 

argument of the modal verb. 

(93) min di-vê-t bi-ç-im mal-ê 

1O IPFV-want.PRS.3SG IRR.go-1SG home-OBL.F 

‘I want to go home.’ 

53 When Bahdini speakers utter this phrase, they drop the i in the bi- prefix and the b changes to a p, so that 

it sounds like, ez çipkim.

93 

(94) ez di-şê-m b-ê-m 

1D IPFV-can.PRS-1SG IRR-come.PRS-1SG 

‘I can come.’ 

(95) te ci di-vê-t ez bu te b-în-im 

2O what IPFV-want.PRS-3SG 1D for 2O IRR-bring.PRS-1SG 

‘What do you want me to bring for you?’ 

4.4.3.7.3.2 Modal adjectives 

Similar to modal verbs are the uses of modal adjectives (or adjectival verbs). 

However, the initial modal adjective clause is always independent of the complement 

clause that follows. If a complement is not uttered, the information must be understood 

via the context of conversation. Like the examples above for modal verbs, the examples 

in (96) through (99) show that the verbs in the complement clauses must receive the 

irrealis prefix. 

The modal adjectives lazim and pêtivî basically have the same meaning. Lazim 

comes from Arabic; pêtivî, as far as I am aware, is of Kurdish origin. In English these 

words may be translated as ‘must,’ ‘should,’ ‘ought’ or ‘necessary.’ For the adjectival 

phrase, the copula is used, as illustrated in the examples below. Use of these modal 

adjectives has the effect of a jussive modality. Example (97) uses the negative version of 

the modal adjective baş, ‘good.’ While other modal adjectives exist, these are certainly 

the most common. 

(96) lazim e tu ser-ê xwe bi-şo-î 

necessary COP.PRS.3SG 2D head-EZ.M REFL IRR-wash.PRS-2SG 

‘You must wash yourself.’ 

(97) gelek ne baş e tu bi-ç-î (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:256) 

very not good COP.PRS.3SG 2D IRR-go.PRS-2SG 

‘It’s very bad that you’re going.’ 

(98) pêtivî ye tu li_gel ne axiv-î (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:256) 

necessary COP.PRS.3SG 2D with (her) not speak.PRS-2SG 

‘You ought not speak with her.’ 

(99) ne lazim bî-Ø ew bi-ç-it (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:256) 

not necessary COP.PST-3SG 3D IRR-go.PRS-3SG (it)

94 

b-în-it 

IRR-bring.PRS-3SG 

‘He didn’t need to go and bring it.’ 

4.4.3.7.3.3 Non-past temporal adverbial clauses 

Verbs in temporal adverbial clauses within non-past sentences also must have the 

irrealis prefix. This is consistent with the irrealis examples we have seen; some action has 

yet to come to pass. Verbs in time clauses of past tense sentences will not have the 

irrealis prefix. 

The examples below are typical of sentences with a non-past tense temporal 

adverbial clause. Such clauses usually occur at the beginning of a sentence. 

(100) dem-ê te bi-vê-t, ez dê bu te (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

time-OBL.F 2O IRR-want.PRS-3SG 1D will for 2O 

în-im 

bring.PRS-1SG 

‘I will bring it when you want.’ or ‘When you want, I’ll bring it.’ 

(101) wext-ê tu bi-zan-î, bêj-e min (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

time-OBL.F 2D IRR-know.PRS-2SG say.PRS-IMP.SG 1O 

‘When you know, tell me.’ 

(102) roj-a ez b-êm, ez dê bêj-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:245) 

daytime.OBL.PL 1D IRR.come.PRS.1SG, 1D will tell.PRS-1SG 

te 

2O 

‘When I come at daytime, I will tell you.’ 

4.4.3.7.3.4 Non-past conditional clauses 

Similar to the time clause examples above, non-past conditional clauses occur at 

the beginning of a sentence. The examples (103) through (107) are speculative utterances 

that utilize the word eger (or heker), ‘if.’ As the speaker is expressing a lack of 

knowledge about something happening, these too fall under the category of irrealis. 

Note that in (106) the prefix bi- is not used. It may be that the speaker feels the 

action to occur is imminent, making it a conditional predictive statement. Example (107) 

has an imperative in the independent clause and no bi- prefix in the dependent clause,

95 

where we would expect to see it. In my experience, I have never heard or seen both an 

independent clause and its dependent clause marked as irrealis. Minimally, these 

examples show that conditional sentences sometimes mark the verb in the dependent 

clause as irrealis. According to Şirîn and Buşra (2006:243), “If-clauses almost always 

require subjunctive verbs,” that is, verbs marked as irrealis. 

(103) heker te bi-vê-t, ez na-ç-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:242) 

if 2O IRR-want.PRS-3SG, 1D NEG-go.PRS-1SG 

‘If you want, I won’t go.’ 

(104) eger ez bi-bîn-im, ez dê bêj-im-ê 

if 1D (him/her) IRR-see.PRS-1SG, 1D will tell.PRS-1SG-him 

‘If I see him/her, I will tell him.’ 

(105) heker ez ne ç-im, ez dê mîn-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:242) 

if 1D NEG go.PRS-1SG 1D will stay.PRS-1SG 

li_gel we 

with 2OP 

‘If I don’t go, I’ll stay with you.’ 

(106) eger tu rîn-î, ez dê jî rîn-im (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:224) 

if 2D sit.PRS-2SG, 1D will also sit.PRS-1SG 

‘If you sit, I will also sit.’ 

(107) eger ew di-ç-it, tu jî herre 

if 3D IPFV-go.PRS-3SG, 2D also go.IMP.SG 

‘If he is going, you also go.’ 

4.4.3.7.3.5 Reason and purpose clauses 

Sentences that express a reason or purpose often utilize the conjunctions da, da ku 

or ku, which may all be translated as ‘so,’ ‘so that,’ or ‘in order to.’ Like many examples 

previously discussed, the verb in the complement clause must have the irrealis prefix. 

When the subject after the conjunction is different, it is usually stated. These 

conjunctions are used with all tenses. 

(108) ez di-çu-m da ders-a bi-xwîn-im 

1D IPFV-go.PST-1SG so.that class.OBL.PL IRR-study.PRS-1SG 

‘I went in order to study my classes.’ 

(109) ka av-ê bi-d-e-Ø min da (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:224) 

please water-OBL.F IRR-give.PRS-IMP.SG 1O so.that

96 

ez têhnî ne b-im 

1D thirsty not COP.PRS-1SG 

‘Please give me water so that I won’t be thirsty.’ 

(110) te çi tişt nîne da av-ê (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:226) 

2O that thing not.have.PRS so.that water.OBL.F 

pê bi-kêş-î 

with.3O(M/F) IRR-draw.PRS.2SG 

‘You don’t have anything for drawing water.’ 

(111) ez hat-im mal-a te da_ku ez ders-ê nîş-a te 

1D come.PST-1SG home-EZ.F 2O so.that 1D class-EZ.M teach-EZ.F 2O 

bi-d-im 

IRR-do.PST-1SG 

‘I came to your house in order to give you a lesson.’ 

4.4.3.7.3.6 Past tense subjunctive clauses 

Some subjunctive moods express “things that couldn’t have or didn’t happen but 

could have or would have happened if circumstances had been different” (Şirîn and Buşra 

2006:333). Each of the examples shown in (112) through (117) require an additional 

word following the conjugated verb, as illustrated in Table 13. Those that utilize a 

conditional clause or a modal adjective exhibit the irrealis marker in the independent 

clause. Through such combinations one can express counterfactual statements, as shown 

in (112) through (115), and various types of conditional and hypothetical statements, as 

shown in (116) and (117). 

Table 13. Past tense subjunctive constructions 


1SG 

2SG 

3SG 

1PL 

2PL & 3PL 

suffix & word 

-î bam 

-î baî 

-î ba 

-î baîn 

-î ban 

Like verb suffixes, the subjunctive word used in these expressions must match the 

person and number of the subject in nominative-accusative sentences. In ergative-

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absolutive sentences, it must match the person and number of the object. For the 

following irrealis moods the person is represented within the irrealis word which follows 

the verb. The verb root is conjugated with the suffix -î, making it a past participle 

(PST.PTCP). Some speakers, though, may drop the -î suffix because of awkwardness in 

pronunciation. All of the examples below are from Şirîn and Buşra (2006:333-4). 

(112) ez çû-î ba-m 

1D go.PST-PST.PTCP could.have-1SG 

‘I could have gone.’ 

(113) te sêv xwar-î ba-î 

2O apple eat-PST.PTCP could.have-2SG 

‘You could’ve eaten the apple.’ 

(114) lazim bî te sêv xwar-î ba-Ø 

Necessary COP.PST-3SG 2O apple eat.PST-PST.PTCP should.have-3SG 

‘You should’ve eaten the apple.’ 

(115) ne lazim bî-Ø ez çû-î ba-m 

not necessary COP.PST-3SG 1D go-PST.PTCP should_have-1SG 

‘I should not have gone.’ 

(116) heker ez çû-î ba-m, ez da xw-im 

If 1D go-PST.PTCP had.1SG, 1D in.order.to eat.PRS-1SG 

‘If I had gone, I would have eaten it.’ 

(117) heker min ne şîa-Ø ba-Ø, ez ne di-çû-m 

if 1O NEG can-PST-PTCP could.have-3SG 1D NEG IPFV-go.PST-1SG 

‘If I could have avoided it, I would not have gone.’ 

4.4.3.8 Perfect tense 

The perfect tense consists of two things: a past tense root with the suffix -î, and a 

form of the verb bûn (or bîn) that is similar to the copula. These constructions are 

summarized in Table 14. Following the table are some examples from Şirîn and Buşra 

(2006) and the corpus.

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Table 14. Perfect tense constructions 


1SG 

2SG 

3SG 

PL 

suffix & word 

-î me 

(118) ez nivist-î-Ø-me (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:296) 

1D sleep:PST-PRF-be:PST-1SG 

‘I’ve been sleeping.’ 

(119) ez ne hat-î-Ø-me (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:296) 

1D NEG come:PST-PRF-be:PST-1SG 

‘I haven’t come.’ 

(120) wan xwar-î-Ø-ne (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:296) 

3OP eat:PST-PRF-be:PST-PL 

‘Have they eaten?’ 

(121) sut-î-Ø-ye li me ceger (BS1:14) 

burn:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG in 1OP liver 

‘The liver in us has burned.’ 

(122) ma min tu vîya-y-Ø-î bu milk u mal-î? (AN5:33) 

INTRG 1O 2D love:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG for land and belongings-OBL.M 

‘Did I love you because of land and belongings (money)?’ 

-î î 

-î ye 

-î ne 

4.4.3.9 Past perfect tense 

The past perfect tense describes actions that began and were completed in the 

past. For past perfect tense, two things must be done. First, the verb root must be 

conjugated using the suffix -i. This verb will not receive the ending that matches the 

subject (in nominative-accusative clauses) or object (in ergative-absolutive clauses). 

Additionally, a word that matches the person and number of the subject or object must be 

added after the conjugated verb, similar to the past tense subjunctive constructions 

discussed in § 4.4.3.7.3.6. Table 15 lists the suffixes with the additional words for each 

person and number. Following the table are some examples with past perfect 

construction.

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Table 15. Past perfect tense constructions 54 

person & number suffix & word 

1SG 

-i bîm/bûm 

2SG 

-i bî/bû 

3SG 

-i bî/bû 

1PL 

-i bîn/bûn 

2PL & 3PL -i bîn/bûn 

(123) ez çû-Ø 55 bî-m bajêrr-î (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:314) 

1D go.PST-PPFT PPFT-1SG city-OBL.M 

‘I had gone to the city.’ 

(124) ji berî nuke wî ez dît-i bî-m (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:314) 

From before now 3OM 1D see.PST-PPFT PPFT-1SG 

‘He had seen me just before now.’ 

(125) min dergeh girt-i bî-Ø (Şirîn and Buşra 2006:314) 

1O door close.PST-PPFT PPFT-3SG 

‘I had closed the door.’ 

(126) me dît-i bu-Ø (Thackston 2006:56) 

1op see.PST-PPFT 

‘We had seen (it).’ 

4.4.3.10 Passive voice 

PPFT-3SG 

Passive voice is usually conveyed by the verb hat/bê, ‘come,’ in conjunction with 

the infinitive form of the verb of action or state. The verb hat/bê must be conjugated to 

agree with the subject. The infinitive form of the verb of action or state, which follows 

hat/bê, consists of the past tense root with the 3PL suffix. In passive constructions, the 

verb, hat/bê, may be transcribed as ‘become/became.’ Below, I have included only a few 

54 Some dialects in Northern Iraq use the vowel û instead of î. Şirîn & Buşra’s publications exhibit the use 

of î, as this usage is more common in the speech varieties in the city of Zaxo. Like the constructions for the 

perfect tense, the added word for the past perfect construction stems from the verb bûn (or bîn), ‘be.’ 

55 According to Şirîn & Buşra (2006: 314) the -i suffix is often not uttered in both pronunication and 

writing. Some speakers may change the sound to î, therein making it more distinct.

100 

examples. For more information on other passive voice constructions (other tenses), see 

Thackston’s reference grammar on Northern Kurdish (2006). 

(127) ez hat-im dît-in (Thackston 2006:67) 

1D come.PST-1SG see.PST-INF 

‘I was seen.’ 

(128) ez-ê 56 bê-m dît-in (Thackston 2006:67) 

1D-will come.PRS-1SG see.PST-INF 

‘I will be seen.’ 

(129) hat-in=e kuşt-in pirpirîk-ên deng-ê (MX:33) 

become.PST-3PL=DIR kill.PST.PTCP-3PL butterfly-EZ.PL sound-EZ.M 

agir-ê birîndar 

fire-EZ.M wound.PST.PTCP 

‘The butterflies of the sound of woulded fire were killed.’ 

Northern Kurdish also has some verbs that have passive constructions without the 

use of hat/bê. However, such verbs do seem to be less common in the language, with 

most passive voice utterances requiring constructions like those shown above. In (130) 

kuzrîn, ‘have been burned,’ is a passive verb that does not require the verb hat/bê. The 

ending must agree with the subject, which in this instance is gulên çîayan, ‘the flowers of 

the mountains.’ 

(130) kuzrî-n gul-ên çîa-yan nêrgiz-ên şeng (BS4:24) 

burn.PST.PASS-3PL flower-EZ.PL mountain-OBL.PL narcissus-EZ.PL young 

u şepal 

and bright 

‘The flowers of the mountains have been burned, the young and bright narcissuses.’ 

4.4.4 Adpositions 

Adpositions consist of either one or two prepositions or a circumposition 

consisting of one or two prepositions with a postposition. Occasionally only a 

postposition is used. As was mentioned in § 4.4.3.6 on complex verbs, certain 

56 In Northern Kurdish of Turkey, future tense is accomplished via either the word dê or an =ê enclitic 

added to the subject (Thackston 2006:42). I have observed that speakers of the Bahdini dialect of Northern 

Iraq almost always use the word dê.

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adpositional phrases have a specific placement before a light verb, whether they are 

attached to another element of the complex verb or are the first part of the complex verb 

itself. In other situations placement may vary, the adpositional phrase having two or more 

possible places in a sentence. 

Table 16 is a list of some of common adpositions with their most common 

English translations. Where dots are used (…), the adposition that follows the dots is a 

postposition. When a postposition is used, the final noun in the PP will not have an 

oblique marker. Some adpositions have the same English translations. The nuances in 

adposition usage could be the subject of an entire paper.

102 

Table 16. Common adpositions 

Adpositions 

di 

di … da 57 

di … ra 

di nav … da 

nav, linav 

gel, digel, ligel 

def, li def 

nav beyna 

ji derva 

ji 

ji … ra 

ji ber 

li 

ber, li ber 

li ser 

ser 

li duîv, li dîv 

bin 

bi 

bê 

bu, bo 

der 

wekî 

nik 

dîr 

berî 

pîstî 

English 

in 

in, into, during 

through 

among, in, inside 

in, inside 

with 

with 

between 

outside 

from 

from 

because of 

at, in 

in front of, under 

on 

on 

after 

under 

with, by means of 

without 

for 

out 

as, like 

near, next to 

far 

before 

after 

57 According to Chyet (2003), the postposition da indicates position or place. In some dialects it is used 

without a preposition.

5. Analysis of Northern Kurdish poetry 

5.1 Introduction to the corpus 

In June 2010, I went to the Northern Kurdish speaking area of Northern Iraq to 

collect a group of poems that would become the corpus for this paper. My intention was 

that the collection would be a good representation of Northern Kurdish poetry in Iraq 

over the past sixty years. Ascertaining which poets were revered proved to be difficult, as 

much of the population is illiterate or only nominally literate. Many literates lack 

exposure to poets, either past or modern. However, I was able to meet with poets and 

people who read poetry and obtained a body of translated poems, more than I could use 

in this thesis. In the end, I made the decisions on which poems to include in the corpus 

based on my evaluation of their overall quality, as well as their ability to represent a 

range of poetic devices. All of the poems with English translations are provided in 

Appendix A. All titles of poems come from their original publications or the copies given 

to me directly by the authors. 

The corpus consists of poets from three periods of Northern Kurdish poetry. 

Representing Neo-classical poetry is Ahmed Nalbend (1891-1963), Cegerxwîn 58 (1903- 

1984), and Badirxan Sindî (b. 1943). Representing the New Period is Badirxan Sindî and 

Mu’eyed Teyb (b. 1957). The Modern Period (the poetry of most present day poets) is 

represented by Mihsin Quçan (b. 1954), Şaban Silêman, Mesud Xalaf, Hizirvan, Deyka 

Dalyayê and Hisin Silêvanî. 

The corpus is also representative of a number of subdialects of Badinan region. 

Nalbend was from the town of Barmanê, near Amedî. Quçan and Dalyayê are also from 

58 Cegerxwîn is the poet’s pen name. His real name was Sheikhmous Hasan. 

103

104 

Barmanê. Sindî is from Zaxo, and Silêvanî is from a similar dialect area not far from 

Zaxo. Silêman is from the village of Oreh, in the Barwarî area, north of Dohuk. The 

village of Hizirvan is from an area closer to Dohuk. It is not known where Xalaf’s dialect 

is from. Cegerxwîn was included in the corpus because of his renown among Kurds 

everywhere. He was born near Batman, Turkey and his family fled to Syria when he was 

11. While his dialect is a bit different from the rest of the corpus, his influence on Kurds 

everywhere is undeniable. Kurds in the Badinan area of Iraq are still able to understand 

much of his poetry. 

Many people helped me in the initial selection process to assemble a body of 

poems to represent Northern Kurdish poetry. After getting many of the poems translated, 

I was able to form the group of poems that would become the corpus for this paper. Reşîd 

Findî, vice-president of the Kurdish Academy in Erbil and one of the chief editors of 

Nalbend’s entire collection of poems, chose a poem from each of the five main themes 

Nalbend wrote in. Cegerxwîn’s poems were selected by Haval Zaxoyî, one of the chief 

editors of a large collection of Cegerxwîn’s poetry. Sindî selected poems of various 

themes from his recent publication, a collection of all of his poems. Teyb also chose 

poems from one of his publications. Quçan and Dalyayê chose poems from their 

publications and I received Silêman’s and Xalaf’s poems through direct correspondence. 

Lastly, Şamal Akrayî, a journalist and translator, as well as Director of Akray Radio, 

chose a poem by Silêvanî, and supplied me with his translation of the poem. 

5.2 The analysis 

The analysis that follows covers various aspects of linguistics on two levels: 

phonological and syntactic. Pragmatic functions are also discussed where applicable. This 

analysis is an empirical study and is, therefore, not exhaustive but consists of those 

aspects of the poems that I found to be most noteworthy. In § 5.3, I discuss the 

phonological level: verse forms, syllable count, and various rhyme positions. The content 

of § 5.4, the syntactic level, covers syntactic deviations concerning word order, ellipsis,

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and free variation, which concerns freedoms a poet may take in forming lines of poetry. I 

also discuss some constructional schemes, neologisms and shortened phrases. 

5.3 On the phonological level 

5.3.1 Verse Forms 

This section on verse forms covers the structures used by poets of verse poetry, as 

opposed to prose―or free verse―poetry, which does not use formal devices on the 

phonological level to the degree of verse poetry. I am thankful for Badirxan Sindî’s input 

on this topic which he supplied during our interview. 

5.3.1.1 Çuarkî, the Northern Kurdish quatrain 

The verse form that dominates the corpus is called the çuarkî, which means 

‘quatrain’ (Sindî 2011). It is in every way similar to the Persian form called ruba’i, 59 

which is an Arabic word meaning ‘foursome.’ A poem composed of multiple ruba’i is 

referred to by the plural, ruba’iyat. A traditional ruba’i consists of two lines of poetry, 

each consisting of two hemistiches (or half-lines). The rhyme scheme is AAXA, where 

the first line end rhymes with its own caesura (or center point), as well as the end of the 

second line (Avery and Heath-Stubbs 1981:9). I have also heard Kurdish poets refer to 

this form as çuar beyt, which literally means ‘four lines.’ In this study, all çuarkî poems, 

whether originally written as couplets or quatrains, will be discussed as quatrains. 

The rhyme schemes varied among authors. Of the Nalbend poems, the most 

common rhyme scheme was ABAB, CCCB, DDDB, etc. where in the first stanza the first 

and third lines rhyme and the second and fourth lines rhyme. Then in the stanzas that 

follow the first through third lines rhyme with one another and the last line rhymes with 

59 According to Avery and Heath-Stubbs (1981:11), the origin of the ruba’i is potentially not from Arabs 

but from Turco-Central Asia. The constraints with which we are familiar, though, are purely Persian. For 

information on the origin of the ruba’i, I refer the reader to the introduction in The Ruba’iyat of Omar 

Khayyam by Peter Avery and John Heath-Stubbs, 1981.

106 

the second and fourth lines of the first stanza. Cegerxwîn used the same scheme in 

writing Dilê Cegerxwîn, ‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart.’ 60 Examples (131) and (132) show portions 

from both authors, (131) by Nalbend and (132) by Cegerxwîn. The full texts with English 

translations may be viewed in Appendix A. 

(131) duhî spêdê li ser banî (AN1:1-12) 

me dît canek ji xew rabû 

ji mal derket derê xanî 

me texmîn kir Zuleyxa bû 

zuleyxa bu sîfet hûrî 

wekî tîrê ji merra bûrî 

çû ser avê lirexê jûrî 

wekî rrojê limin ava bû 

dema zivrî ji ser avê 

me dît lêda ji nû tavê 

miqabil çûme hindavê 

qere puşî girê dabû 

(132) agir bi Kurdistanê ket (CX1:1-6) 

lewra haware dil; 

sed baẍ u sed bistanî ket 

manendî bilbil jare dil 

pêtek ji Kurdistanê hat, 

mêalik u cergê min dipat; 

aman welat, aman welat, 

bawer bikin xwînxware dil 

bawer bikin eî yarê min, 

heval u hem guhdarê min; 

her gav u her êvarê min, 

naxoş u hem bêzare dil 

Another rhyme scheme used by Nalbend for consecutive stanzas was AAXA, 

XAXA, etc. In this scheme the first, second and fourth lines of the first stanza rhyme and 

the third line is free from rhyme. In the stanzas that follow, the first and third lines are 

60 Each quatrain of Dilê Cegerxwîn is written as du beyt, ‘two lines’ of poetry, a couplet, with rhymes also 

at each caesura, the midpoint in each line. This is the traditional form for the ruba’i mentioned by 

Avery/Heath-Stubbs (1981). Nalbend’s Ey Malikê Vê ‘Alemê is also written in the ruba’iyat form.

107 

free from rhyming and the second and fourth lines rhyme with the rhymed lines in the 

first stanza. Example (133) shows the first two quatrains of Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We Want 

A Girl.’ 

(133) kiçkek me divêt ji nû gehiştî (AN5:1-8) 

ya ji dêm u rûya xunav ne riştî 

wextê ji derî bihême xanî 

rrabît me ax u biket ve piştî 

gava ko bidet me têşt u şîva 

bêjît me kuro hilo vî tişt u miştî 

rengê xu bidem wekî gula geş 

me’na ku were bi xu vî tiştî 

Badirxan Sindî used a rhyme scheme of AAAB, CCCB, DDDB, etc. in Mîrê 

Peyvan, ‘The Prince of Words.’ For writing Bila..Bila, ‘OK..OK,’ Sindî used the scheme 

AAXA, BBXB, etc. Below are small sections from each poem. 

(134) erê sîlav çima evro melwîl u hişk u zuhayî? (BS7:1-8) 

kelê boçî tu bê deng u negeşdar u verêlhayî? 

çira dil tu wesa evro ji kakal ra yê arhayî? 

gutin yaro bê kew rabu sefer kêşa u zavaye 

te da rê eî mîrê peyvan bê saz u maz li pêş te biçin 

şagirdên te heqe çûban bi mewkin ew cilil reş bin 

heta peyvên te jî seyda li vê ş’rê da jî geş bin 

ẍerîbê vê jîlnê bu şeva mirnê jî humaye 

(135) bila .. bila çi bêjit (BS3:1-8) 

bila dilê min bihêlit 

dustê mine bi evînî 

xudê bu min bihêlit 

sal bu salê di burînim 

rundika ez lê di werînim 

xudê dustê min kanê 

kengî ez dê wî bînim 

The final variation on quatrain rhyme schemes in the corpus is found in 

Cegerxwîn’s Silav Li Sifra Hazire, ‘Salute the Feast Is Ready.’ The first stanza is a 

traditional ABAB pattern, followed by quatrains of the form XXXB, in which the first 

through third lines are free and the fourth line rhymes with the B lines of the first

108 

quatrain. Only in the final quatrain do we again see rhyme in the first and third lines 

giving a rhyme scheme of CXCB. 

(136) ey sûxteyê bê nav u deng, (CX2:1-8) 

dijmin li ser balafire. 

pir leşker u top u tiveng; 

seîda ewe, ew mahire. 

sed salin ev zeîd u ‘emir, 

cenge dikel rîşa melê 

mertal di dest wan de bihuşt; 

gurzê di dest wan agire. 

seîdayê rast u ronîye, 

lewra cegerxwîn namîdar. 

zana dizanin ew kî ye, 

ên ker dibêjin kafire. 

…………. 

(CX2:29-32) 

The examples above are representative of the quatrain rhyme schemes found in 

this corpus. As this is such a small sampling of the çuarkî poetry, with more research one 

might encounter other rhyme schemes. For example, Turco mentions an interlocking 

ruba’iyat that is common in Arabic and Persian poetry. This chain verse has a rhyme 

scheme of AABA, BBCB, CCDC, ending with ZZAZ, where the third line of the final 

quatrain circles back to the rhyme in the initial quatrain (Turco 2000:245). Considering 

the influence of Persian and Arabic poets on Kurdish poets, it would not be surprising to 

find interlocking çuarkî poems within the body Kurdish poetry. 

The çuarkî schemes found in the corpus are summarized in Table 17.

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Table 17. Poems using çuarkî forms 

Poem 

AN1 

AN2 

AN3 

AN4 

AN5 

BS3 

CX1 

CX2 

BS7 

Rhyme scheme 

ABAB, CCCB, DDDB,… 




AABA, XAXA,… 

AAXA, BBXB,… 


ABAB, XXXB,… 

CXCB# 61 

AAAB, CCCB, DDDB,… 

5.3.1.2 Methnawî – the Northern Kurdish couplet 

Methnawî is an Arabic word used to describe poetry written in rhymed couplets 

(Sindî 2010). Some poets use the Persian form of the word, masnavî, as Kurdish does not 

have a letter for the Arabic voiceless, interdental fricative ‘th,’ as in the English word 

‘thing.’ Another difference is that among Northern Kurdish and related languages, the 

letters v and w, and even m, are used in alike words. For example, in Northern Kurdish, 

the word for ‘summer’ is havîn. In Central Kurdish (commonly called Soranî), the word 

is hawîn. In at least some Hawramî dialects (Southern Kurdish), ‘summer’ is hamîn. 

Some Northern Kurdish speakers also use the term du beyt for methnawî, which means 

‘two lines.’ However, I have observed that the Arabic and Persian terms are more 

prevalent. 

While I understand methnawî to be a popular verse form among Northern Kurdish 

poets, the corpus contains only two poems in this form, both by the same author. One 

such poem, Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ 

61 ‘#’ denotes the end of the poem.

110 

contains 23 couplets. The following are lines 27 through 32 of that poem, illustrating the 

rhyme scheme of AA, BB, CC, etc. 

(137) dilber u aşiq her êkin lê belê rengê mecaz (BS1:27-32) 

car bi caran bi îcazet hin li hin dê kin cîaz 

pir evîna mililetê me êke gel zatê melê 

ew di dil da nîşte cê ye lê belê çavê me lê 

zahir u batin êk kese dişir’eta ‘şqa zelal 

ew u Kurdînî êk kesin çi kemal bin çi zewal 

The other methnawî poem, Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ 

is composed of 24 couplets. Below are the last six lines of the poem. 

(138) nabitin bu me tewafa ew cihê lê Mem u Zîn (BS4:43-48) 

nabitin evro biburîn ji tuxîbê Xanîqîn 

nabitin biçim nik Xanî bu vekim dilê bixwîn 

nabitin biçim dêrsîmê bikelêşim dilê bievîn 

dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtîe dîsa çima? 

ma ji jîna kurte jîn bit ma ji ‘emrê me çi ma? 

Sindî informed me that there is a form of couplet poetry in which the poet writes 

the first line in Kurdish and the second line in Arabic or Persian. This form was popular 

during the time of Ahmed Cezîrî in the 16 th and 17 th centuries and has fallen out of favor. 

He knows of no one who presently writes in this form. 

5.3.1.3 Tercîa band 

Only one poem in the corpus was written in the tercîa band verse form. Sindî had 

the following to say about tercîa band: 

Tercîa means ‘repeating, to repeat something.’ It is an Arabic word. 

Band 62 means ‘to tie something’ and it is a Persian and Kurdish word. 

62 Regarding the word band, Sindî (2010) also had the following to say, “Band means sometimes ‘rope’ or 

‘belt.’ It means ‘arrested man.’ Sometimes it means ‘slave’; sometimes it means ‘a man who is always 

related to some other man.’ That is why in Bahdînî, we say ez banî. It means ‘I am in your band; I am your 

servant; I am your slave, you are my lord.’’

111 

Tercîa band means when you have to repeat something and to fasten the 

last word to complete the whole line (Sindî 2011). 

Sindî’s Nehat, ‘It Did Not Come,’ consists of 16 lines all ending with the sound 

sequence za min nehat. The following are the first six lines of the poem. 

(139) Dîl u êxsîrî ji gelî bun―ser feraza min nehat. (BS5:1-6) 

Mam di’îşiqa wê şepalê―sil u zîza min nehat. 

Çav dinêrim ez bibînim―xuş ‘ezîza min nehat. 

Guh min da awaz u lavçan―dengê saza min nehat. 

Ez ji ke’bê ra mirîdim―hec u ferza min nehat. 

Cejne u sunete aştî―pir ‘aciza min nehat. 

This is the only tercîa band in Badirxan Sindî’s book and I am unaware of any Kurdish 

poets other than Ahmed Cezîrî and Ahmed Xanî (Shakely 1996:337) who have written in 

this form. Two popular forms with which tercîa band may be compared are the French 

villanelle and the American terzanelle. Like the tercîa band form, these forms utilize 

refrains. For details on these forms, see Turco (2000: 273-5, 282-5). 

5.3.1.4 Innovative form for rhymed verse 

Cegerxwîn’s poem Silav Li Sifra Hazire, ‘Salute the Feast Is Ready,’ discussed 

above as example (136), may very well be considered an unorthodox verse form, with its 

many lines of rhyme-free endings. However, one of the verse poems in the corpus is even 

more unusual and may best be considered a sonnet. Sindî’s Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, 

‘A Walk Through Kurdistan,’ is made up of five stanzas, each having 14 lines with a 

rhyme scheme that can generally be described as AABBCCDDEEFFFZ. The lines rhyme 

by couplet through to the ninth and tenth lines. Then there is a rhymed triplet composed 

of the eleventh, twelfth, and thirteenth lines. Finally, the fourteenth lines of each stanza 

rhyme with each other, with the exception of line 14 of the third stanza which rhymes 

with its own B lines. 

While this generally sums up the rhyme scheme, the denser rhyme schemes 

actually used in the poem are better seen by way of Table 18 which presents all five 

stanzas and illustrates the interplay of rhymes across the couplet boundaries. I have

112 

chosen to present each stanza individually so as to make comparison easy; any 

interlocking rhymes that might exist between stanzas are not presented. 

Note that there is no variation at all in the first three couplets, which are always 

AA, BB, CC. After these, there is repetition of at least one of the couplet rhyme schemes 

in either the third (stanza 2), fourth (stanza 1 and 4), or the fifth (stanza 3) couplet. The 

M-dash (―) signifies a volta, a semantic shift that coincides with a change in the rhyme 

pattern. 63 At each volta shift in Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, ‘A Walk Through 

Kurdistan,’ the person or thing to which the poet has spoken begins his, her or its reply, 

which continues through line 14. In stanzas 1 and 4, the volta occurs with line 11; in the 

other stanzas it occurs with line 9. 

Table 18. Rhyme scheme of stanzas in BS2 

Stanza Rhyme scheme 

1 AABBCC--DDD'D'—EEEZ 

2 AABBCC--C'C'—DDD'D'D'Z 

3 AABBCC--DD—EEE'E'E'B 

4 AABBCC--DDD'D'—EEEZ 

5 AABBCC--B'B'—C'C'C''C''C''Z 

The rhyme scheme in stanza 5 is the most concentrated. Two couplets have B- 

rhymes and two couplets and the triplet having C-rhymes, which all combined give the 

poem a robust ending. It is not surprising to see such an innovative form―uncommon to 

Northern Kurdish poetry―among Sindî’s work, as he was among the first of the 

Northern Kurdish poets in Iraq to write free verse poetry. 

63 Boerger says the following concerning sonnets and the volta: “The standard sonnet is composed of 

fourteen lines of iambic pentameter, in which a semantic shift generally occurs at the same point as there is 

a shift in the rhyme scheme (Turco 2000:263-264). The point of shift is called the volta” (Boerger 

2009:243). For details on traditional sonnet forms, see Boerger’s text.

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5.3.2 Line syllable count 

The shortest syllable count per line in the corpus is seven, and occurred in three 

poems. The longest is sixteen syllables per line and concurs with what Sindî said during 

our interview about length of lines, “It starts with six or seven...16 is the top.” Table 19 

shows a list of the 14 poems, in the corpus of 26 poems, that were written with a 

regimented syllable count. 

Table 19. Actual or average syllable counts. 

Poem Syllable Count 

AN1 8 

AN2 7 

AN3 8 

AN4 11 

AN5 10 

BS1 15 

BS2 7 

BS3 7 

BS4 15 

BS5 15 

BS7 16 

CX1 8 

CX2 8 

CX3 14 

In some instances the count seems to be inconsistent, especially in some of 

Nalbend’s poems. However, an analyst should be careful when making conclusive 

statements based on an etic perspective. In some situations sounds may meld when 

spoken, producing elisions of sound, shortening the syllabic count by reading a poem 

aloud. This is illustrated in some of the examples in the discussion that follows. The 

degree to which such elisions can be ascertained via the written form reveals that poets 

who write syllabic verse are primarily concerned with how the poem will sound when it

114 

is spoken or performed. The way syllables are counted seems to be influenced by 

poetry’s oral tradition. This particular topic needs much more direct input from poets incountry, 

as only they can explain how they determine syllable counts. A complete 

analysis of poetic meter was therefore not possible, in large part due to a lack of 

performed poetry. 

The most common elision of sound occurs when the weak vowel i is excluded 

from pronunciation. In fact, with few words beginning with i, some may argue for its 

nonexistence in the language. The modified Arabic script of Northern Kurdish does not 

even include a letter representing i. Thackston (2006:5) uses the term furtive to describe 

the appearance and disappearance of this vowel in the language. He writes, 

Kurdish does not tolerate all final consonant clusters. When an intolerable 

final consonant cluster appears, it is broken by the vowel i, called the 

‘furtive i,’ which disappears when a vowel-initial enclitic or suffix is 

added to the word (Thackston 2006:5). 

However, it is not just in final consonant clusters that the i vowel is excluded in 

spoken Northern Kurdish. For example, the word for ‘want,’ with the continuous aspect 

marker di-, often loses the short i when the d can elide with a previous CV syllable to 

form a CVC syllable. Such seems to be the case in line 28 of Nalbend’s poem, Ey Ze’îmê 

Bê Nivêjê Bê Werar, ‘O Leader Without Prayer and Use,’ shown in (140). Here the first 

end rhyme, mezin, completes the first eight syllables of the line, a hemistich, as in in 

mezin rhymes with min and jin in the previous line. At the beginning of line 28, me joins 

with divêt to sound like me͡ d.vêt. While the i is still written when using the Latin script, it 

is not pronounced. If it was pronounced, the number of syllables from me to mezin would 

be nine, inconsistent with the eight-syllable line length throughout the poem. For a 

breakdown of the syllables in the first hemistich in line 28, see example (141).

115 

(140) xwozîya kesê guh daye min şêx u melaw mêr u jin 64 (AN3:27, 28) 

me divêt bu wan faîdê mezin lew min dewam gazindeye 

(141) me͡ d(i).vêt bu wan fa͡ î.dê mez.in 

In another poem, Mîrê Peyvan, ‘The Prince of Words,’ by Sindî, the word biçin, 

at the end of the 5th line, joins with the previous word te, shortening the apparent 17- 

syllable count by one, as shown in (142). Hence, the poet has taken the performance of 

the poem into account while forming his 16-syllable count lines. 

(142) te da rê ey mîrê peyvan bê saz u maz li pêş te biçin (BS7:5) 

te da rê ey mî.rê pey.van bê saz u maz li pêş te͡ b.(i)çin 

In truth, when speakers of the Bahdini subdialect say te biçin, it sounds more like tep çin. 

The b sounds more like a p, taking on the minus voice distinctive feature of the letter ç. 

Lastly, as Thackston states, the i can disappear at the end of a word when a 

vowel-initial enclitic or suffix is added. In line 11 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door 

of Life and Hopes,’ shown in (143), the verb ketin usually has two syllables. However, 

because of the e directional enclitic, the word ke.tin, having a CV.CVC structure, is 

pronounced ket.ne. The t becomes the coda of the first syllable, now CVC, and the n 

becomes the onset of the second syllable, ne, a CV syllable. The syllabic breakdown is 

shown in the second line of the example. If the i is pronounced, the syllable count for the 

line would exceed the poem’s syllable count of 15. 

(143) canîkên kumêda revîn ketine nav çul u çîan (BS4:11) 

ca-nîk-ên ku-mêd-a re-vîn ket-(i).ne nav çul u çî-an 

These elisions of the i vowel may be represented by the rule in (144). Concerning 

the consonants that are marked in the {} brackets, one or the other is required. The 

consonants in parentheses are optional. To see how the rule works, I have provided two 

examples. In (145) the word befir has two syllables. When befir is in the oblique case, the 

feminine oblique marker, -ê, is added and the i elides. The resulting word is bef.rê. In this 

64 While this line contains 16-syllables, the syllable min, which rhymes with jin and mezin, happens to 

occur on the 9 th syllable, not the 8 th , where it is to be expected. It seems that Nalbend was content with this 

deviation in syllable count.

116 

instance, the r went from being the coda on the second syllable to being its onset. In 

(146) the imperfective affix di- is added to the word vêt. This word is preceded by the 

pronoun me, 1O, giving us me divêt. In this instance, the i vowel is in the affix, not the 

word stem. Following the rule, the i elides. However, this time the orphan consonant, 

which had functioned as an onset, is join phonologically to the open syllable me to 

function as its coda. 

(144) (C) V C i {C} + {C} V (C) (C) V C {C} + {C} V (C) 

(145) b e . f i r + ê b e f . r + ê 

(146) m e d i . v ê t m e͡ d . + v ê t 

Example (147) illustrates that the rule in (144) applies even when the i vowel is 

not in an aspect affix. The i in the preposition ji elides and the j becomes the coda for the 

syllable rêj. However, in (148) the desired 16-syllable count can only be reached if the b 

in bi does not syllabify with the diphthong in buî. Perhaps, though, the presence of the 

diphthong does not provide the environment required by the rule above for elision and 

syllabification. A thorough exploration of this subject is beyond the scope of this study. It 

requires an emic view from the poets and recorded texts for comparing with written texts. 

(147) wekî tîrê ji merra bûrî (AN1:6) 

we.kî tî.rê͡ j(i) me.rra bû.rî 

(148) ji turî ra tu dergeh buî bi suzî xuş zêrevanî (BS7:15) 

ji tu.rî ra tu der.geh bu͡ î bi su.zî xuş zê.re.va.nî 

In BS7, there may be some evidence that a poet may actually have some liberty 

insofar as applying the rule in (144). In the last line of the poem, the di aspect marker on 

disujit must be counted to reach the syllable count of 16, even though lewra, a word 

ending in a vowel, precedes it. In this line there is no other way to reach 16 syllables 

except to consider di a syllable by itself. 

(149) gelê lewra disujit dil ku cih kew evro valaye (BS7:24) 

ge.lê lew.ra di.su.jit dil ku cih kew ev.ro va.la.ye 

Lastly, one other potential environment for the elision of the i vowel is the 

syllabification of two consonants. In line 10 of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories

117 

of Immortal Barzanî,’ the preposition ji must syllabify with the word that follows it, 

mezar, in order to reach the syllable count for the poem, 15. This elision of i and 

syllabification of the orphaned consonant would require an additional rule, which could 

be established with more proof and research with recorded texts. I am basing my 

conjecture here on personal experience. For example, when the term ji mêja, ‘from time 

past,’ is used in Northern Iraq, it is uttered as if it consists of only two syllables, ͡ j mê.ja, 

as if j and mê are syllabified into one syllable. 

(150) me du’a bu şev u rujan ji mezar u Înis u cin (BS1:10) 

me du.’a bu şev u ru.jan ji me.zar u Î.nis u cin 

Another situation where sounds can change and affect the syllable count is when a 

vowel becomes a glide. The Latin graphemes î, a vowel, and y, a glide, are represented by 

the same grapheme in Kurdish script, which is written as ي or ‏.ي The former is written 

ي when the sound is word-final, which would only be a vowel. Hence, it is the grapheme 

that represents either a vowel or a glide. When transcribing to a Latin script, one has to 

make a decision whether to use î or y. 

One example is the word sufyên in line 17 of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, 

‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî.’ The syllable count for the line is 15 and can only be 

reached if sufî, when combined with the plural ezafe conjunctive particle -ên, counts as 

only two syllables. Here the i must become a glide. The word would then consist of two 

CVC syllables, suf and yên. The glide acts as the consonantal onset for the second syllable. 

(151) mililetê Kurd pir wefaye sufyên destên tene (BS1:17) 

mi.li.le.tê Kurd pir we.fa.ye suf.yên des.tên te.ne 

In (152) two things must happen to reach a syllable count of 7. First, the initial i 

in dikirin must elide according to the rule in (144); the d becomes the coda for the 

syllable pê, giving us pê͡ d(i).ki.rin. Second, the word yarîa, which consists of the word 

yarî and a femine ezafe particle, -a, must be pronounced as two syllables: yar.ya. Hence, 

an i changes to a y even though the resulting syllable is CV, not CVC.

118 

(152) pê dikirin yarya bîka (BS2:32) 

pê͡ d(i).ki.rin yar.ya bî.ka 

The phonological occurrence in these last two examples may be represented by 

the following rule, with sounds represented using the Northern Kurdish orthography. 

Potentially, the initial consonant in this rule is optional; however, at the writing of this 

study, I did not have an example to support this notion. 

(153) î y / C V C __ V (C) 

The example in (154) may be evidence that the rule in (153) is optional for the 

poet. In line 1 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ the î in the 

words hîvîa and girtîe must be pronounced as a vowel in order to reach the syllable count 

of 15. Each word must be pronounced as having three syllables. Hîvîa consists of the 

word hîvî and the feminine ezafe particle -a. Girtîe consists of the word girtî and the 

present tense 3SG copula e. 

(154) dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtîe dîsa çima (BS4:1) 

der.ge.hê jîn u hî.vî.a gir.tî.e dî.sa çi.ma 

With all this evidence, one thing is clear. Poets sometimes consider performance 

when forming lines of poetry. There may certainly be other phonological rules that poets 

are abiding by when forming lines of poetry. My discussion here is from a purely etic 

view. Poets of Neo-classical poetry should be consulted before making clear 

determinations about the distinct system they follow when counting syllables. 

5.3.3 Rhyme 

Rhyme is a defining feature of both Classical and Neo-classical poetry in 

Northern Kurdish. In the following sections, I discuss various end rhymes, including 

head, internal and interlaced rhyme, feature rhyme, and what I am calling multisyllabic 

rhyming sequence. 

5.3.3.1 End rhyme 

The most common position for rhyme in the corpus is end rhyme. While end 

rhyme is a dominant feature of Classical and Neo-classical Northern Kurdish poetry, two

119 

of the prose poems in the corpus also exhibit this feature. These are Mu’eyed Teyb’s 

Firekê Baî , ‘A Sip of Wind,’ and Şaban Silêman’s Gutgutik, ‘Rumors.’ 

5.3.3.1.1 True rhyme 

The most basic rhyme is called true rhyme, which according to Turco (2000:49) 

‏-׳o‏)‏ “has to do with identical sound, in two or more words, of an accented vowel sound 

‏(׳ow‏-׳oa together with all sounds following that vowel (o׳ne-oa׳n-ow׳n), while the 

consonant sounds immediately preceding the vowel differ in each word (bo׳ne-loa׳ngrow׳n).” 

In the following lines from Nalbend’s Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, ˈIt’s Wonderful Like 

Heaven,’ the first, second, and third lines of each stanza exhibit true rhyme in each line’s 

final syllable. For example, in lines 9 through 11, shown in (155), the second syllables of 

the words bihar and hizar rhyme with bar. The fourth lines of all the stanzas in this poem 

rhyme with one another, exhibiting end rhyme focused on a single syllable. In lines 13, 

17 and 20, also shown, şîn rhymes with the final syllables of nazenîn and şirîn. 

(155) tazeye lê xoş bihar (AN2:9-20) 

aẍ u rez u daru bar 

cinsê kulîlka hizar 

gav u dema sûr u şîn 

zwîr u girî bin tiraş 

yaze letîf xuş u baş 

libsê çîyayî qumaş 

dil vekere nazenîn 

kêrî şîv u nihal 

sergir u rêhel wirwal 

kehnî avin zelal 

sar u sivik tam şirîn 

True end rhymes focused on a single syllable were prominent in the following texts: 

CX1, CX3, BS7, MT3, AN1, AN2, AN3, AN4, BS1, BS2, BS4 and SS1. 

5.3.3.1.2 Multisyllabic rhyme 

Disyllabic true end rhyme was the most common multisyllabic rhyme in the 

corpus. Such a rhyme may occur between individual words or may cross word

120 

boundaries. 65 Disyllabic true end rhyme was also more prevalent than true end rhyme 

focused on a single syllable. The following couplets from Sindî’s Dergehê Jîn u Hîvî Ya, 

‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ exhibit disyllabic true end rhymes. In (156) lewa rhymes 

with xewa and eve rhymes with şeve. 

(156) ew çirayên mililetîne şewiq vedan bu me lewa (BS4:29, 30) 

bilbilên şermin dixuînin Kurdu dê rabe ji xewa 

zana u nezan her êkin Kurdînu nabit eve (BS4:33, 34) 

lew ji êşa em dinalîn her li me dunya şeve 

The corpus also contains many examples of multisyllabic end rhyme where 

rhymes cross word boundaries. These examples are discussed in § 5.3.3.1.4 on mosaic 

rhyme. In some instances, there is identical rhyme, where a word is repeated in the 

rhymed sentence. 66 In the discussion that follows, examples (157) through (159) exhibit 

this type of rhyme. 

Multisyllabic rhyme was the most common type of rhyme in Dilê Cegerxwîn, 

‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart.’ In the example that follows, the rhymes consist of three syllables 

that cross word boundaries. Such a rhyme is said to have a compound ending. The 

repetition of the word min in lines 5 and 6, the word ew in lines 7 and 8, and the word dil 

at the end of lines 6 and 8, are identical rhymes contributing to the compound endings. 

Yarê min, guhdarê min and êvarê min rhyme the final three syllables, as do naxoşe ew, 

poşe ew and seîdoşe ew. Bêzare dil, at the end of line 6, rhymes with kerare dil at the end 

of line 8. Note here that the consonantal onsets of the first syllables of the rhymed 

65 See § 5.3.3.1.4 on mosaic rhyme. 

66 Turco (2003:53) defines identical rhyme as having “identity of sound in the consonants immediately 

preceding the accented vowel as well as in the following sounds (cyʹst, persiʹst, insiʹst).” For this paper I 

have opted for Adams’ (1997:199) looser definition that does not consider accent. He identifies identical 

rhyme as simply, “a word rhymes with itself,” which is basically the repetition of a word. He uses an 

example from Emily Dickenson’s “Because I Could not Stop for Death” where the end of line 2 and line 4 

in a quatrain is the same word, “ground.”

121 

sequences are different and thereby fulfill the definition of true rhyme. The repeated 

words min and ew in the rhymed sequence are examples of identical rhyme. 

(157) Bawer bikin eî yarê min, heval u hem guhdarê min; (CX1:5-8) 

Her gav u her êvarê min, naxoş u hem bêzare dil. 

Bêzar u pir naxoşe ew, kincên sîyeh – gûn – poşe ew, 

Geh sîne geh seîdoşe ew, geh heîderê kerare dil. 

Multisyllabic rhyme was also commonly used by Sindî. The following examples 

from Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ show two-syllable, 

three-syllable and four-syllable compound rhymes, respectively. They illustrate both 

identical rhyme and true rhyme. 

(158) êş u derdên mililetê Kurd wî ji hîngê kirne ders (BS1:41, 42) 

sehirezayî u ‘eqil u curet ew mukim lê bune ders 

suz u peyman em didinte gel teda u ala weda (BS1:45, 46) 

em bimînîn bête senger meşxelên roka weda 

mililetê Kurd pir wefaye sufyên destên tene (BS1:17, 18) 

ruh ji êşan pir semaye ‘aşiq u mestên tene 

Sindî also used four-syllable, identical, compound rhymes in every line of his tercîa 

band, Nehat, ‘It Did Not Come,’ provided in full below. 

(159) dîl u êxsîrî ji gelî bun ser feraza min nehat (BS5) 

mam di’îşiqa wê şepalê sil u zîza min nehat 

çav dinêrim ez bibînim xuş ‘ezîza min nehat 

guh min da awaz u lavçan dengê saza min nehat 

ez ji ke’bê ra mirîdim hec u ferza min nehat 

cejne u sunete aştî pir ‘aciza min nehat 

şivanê deşt u zuzanim berxe nazamin nehat 

dawet u şahîan veqetîan can witaza min nehat 

têhnî u tav u tehireye siha gwîza min nehat 

çend mekir hawar u yeman kes bu duza min nehat 

kî wekî me mubitalye kes li rêza min nehat 

mam li nêçîrê ji mêje şah u baza min nehat 

‘ud u sentur bistirîne xuş awaza min nehat 

min bi jehira wê qebîle maru gaza min nehat 

ez bi ḧukimê mirnê dayme (neqiza) qeza min nehat 

derfeye hakim bibînim roja heza min nehat

122 

5.3.3.1.3 Multisyllabic rhyming sequence 

Some sequences of syllables exhibit what I am calling multisyllabic rhyming 

sequence. In such instances, more than one syllable is rhymed. True rhyme, as defined by 

Turco above, occurs when two or more onsets vary while everything after the onsets 

remains the same. In a multisyllabic rhyming sequence, more than one syllable in the 

rhymed lines has varying onsets. This is best understood by means of an example. The 

lines in (160), from Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal 

Barzanî,’ exhibit a representative example of a multisyllabic rhyming sequence. The 

sounds entering the rhyming sequence are in italics. First, the penultimate syllables of ru 

and su rhyme according to Turco’s definition of true rhyme. The final syllables of the 

lines, jin and cin, also exhibit true rhyme. Potentially, the poet has carefully chosen these 

words here to capitalize on the phonetic similarity between the sounds j and c. Both 

consonants are voiced. One slight difference is that j is post-alveolar and c is palatal. The 

other difference is that j is a fricative and c is an affricate. (Refer to § 5.3.3.1.5 for 

information on articulatory features.) 

(160) ayeta Kursî ji berkir me―ciḧêl u pîr u jin (BS1:9, 10) 

me du’a bu şev u rujan ji mezar u Înis u cin 

Another multisyllabic rhyming sequence in the same poem consists of gelî bûn 

and girî bun, shown in example (161). The vowels e and i that follow g are relatively 

close to one another, exhibiting vowel feature rhyme, which I discuss in § 5.3.3.1.5.2. In 

the following syllables, lî and rî, also rhyme. The consonantal onsets l and r are similar in 

that both are voiced and alveolar. The only difference is that the first is a lateral 

approximate while the second is a flap. This example is a more complex multisyllabic 

rhyming sequence. While the consonantal onsets in these and the following examples do 

not qualify as consonant feature rhyme (see § 5.3.3.1.5.1), as the sound similarities are the 

onsets―not the codas―the word choices do seem intentional on part of the poet, 

exhibiting poetic artistry. Also italizicized are the final four syllables in each line. These 

too demonstrate multisyllabic rhyming sequence where each syllable rhymes or comes 

close to rhyming.

123 

(161) şînyî u tazî ji gelî bûn 67 çep u rast u jor u jêr (BS1:15, 16) 

şev u roj xelkî girî bun kal u genc u jin u mêr 

The longest example of a multisyllabic rhyming sequence consists of the last five 

syllables in lines 6 and 7 of Silêman’s Gutgutik, ‘Rumors,’ shown in (162). The onsets 

for the first, second and fourth syllables, shown in italics, differ while the vowels remain 

consistent. 

(162) Hindek yê ji keyfa pê firî (SS1:6, 7) 

Hindek yê ji qehra pê mirî 

Table 20 lists some other multisyllabic rhyming sequences in the corpus. 

5.3.3.1.4 Mosaic rhyme 

Table 20. Additional instances of multisyllabic rhyming sequence. 

AN3 15, 16 mirîn, şirîn biçîn 

BS4 17, 18 -ê barê xubim -zê malê xubim 

BS4 27, 28 ew çar bira ew çarçira 

SS1 9, 11 -hêzin -bêjin 

SS1 16, 17 gurî xwelî 68 

Mosaic rhyme is when one rhyme is compound and the other normal (Turco 

2000:53). This strategy was used by three of the four poets represented in the corpus who 

wrote verse poetry, as illustrated below, with both perfect and identical rhyme. In (163) 

rabû rhymes with Zuleyxa bû and derkir, ker kir, and anber kir rhyme with each other. In 

(164) çima rhymes with çi ma and in (165) memê bu rhymes with sîxwecê bu and rêbu. 

(163) me dît canek ji xew rabû (AN1:2, 4) 

me texmîn kir Zuleyxa bû 

67 The words bûn and bun (in line 16) are part of the rhyme. The spelling of this past tense copula varies 

throughout the poetry. Though one of these is likely a typographical error, I have left the spellings as found 

in the original text. My consultant advised me that bûn is the correct spelling of the word. 

68 The character و in the Kurdish script represents both w and u in the Latin script. Some dialects (perhaps 

only in certain words) pronounce the dipthong we as u. My opinion is that this is the rhyme intended by the 

poet, the accepted spelling of xwelî with the dialect pronunication of xulî.

124 

ji mêlaka me xûn derkir 

ewê dil bir ceger ker kir 

miqabil me xûn liber anber kir 

(AN1:29-31) 

(164) dergehê jîn u hîvîa giritîe dîsa çima (BS4:1, 2) 

ma ji jîna kurte jîn bit ma ji ‘emrê me çi ma 

(165) mirîdê vîna zînê bu nesaxê derdê memê bu (BS7:21-23) 

rundika tac u stîê bu fîẍana sîwxecê bu 

xuş vîê gav u mizê bu ‘evdal bu çav her li rêbu 

The nine other instances of mosaic rhyme may be viewed in AN1, AN3, BS1 and BS2 in 

Appendix A. 

5.3.3.1.5 Sound play 

As we have seen in true rhyme, rhymed syllables differ only in the onset of the 

rhymed sequence. Feature rhyme, on the other hand, as defined by Zwicky (1986:68), 

occurs when codas of two rhyming sequences minimally differ from one another by way 

of their phonological features. For example, in his paper on rhyme in rock lyrics, Zwicky 

(1976:677) says that the final sounds in the words “stop” and “rock” are consonants that 

minimally differ. In this instance, both sounds are plosives and voiceless; the only feature 

that is different is the place of articulation. For consonant features, refer to Table 21 

below. This chart is arranged according to standard phonetic charts. Where there are two 

graphemes in a box, the one on the left is unvoiced, the one of the right, voiced. In 

extreme cases of feature rhyme, the sounds may differ by two articulatory features. 

For vowel feature rhyme, Zwicky (1976:677) lists the example of “end” and 

“wind.” The vowels in these words are relatively close in articulation. For the discussion 

of vowel feature rhyme, see § 5.3.3.1.5.2.

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Table 21. Orthographic consonant chart 

Bilabial 

Labiodental 

Alveolar 

Postalveolar 

Palatal Velar Uvular 

Glotto- 

Pharyngeal 

Plosive p b t d k g q 

Nasal m n 

Trill rr 69 

Flap 

r 

Affricate 

ç c 

Fricative f v s z ş j x ẍ h ḧ ˈ 

Approximant w y 

Lateral 

approximant 

l 

5.3.3.1.5.1 Consonant feature rhyme 

Two poems in the corpus exhibit instances of consonant feature rhyme. In (166) 

the words hestî and destî exhibit true rhyme. The word geztî, however, does not. For the 

rhyme, Nalbend, the poet of these lines, is relying on the similarities between s and 

z―the codas of the first syllables of the rhymed sequences. Both consonants use the 

alveolar place of articulation and the same manner of articulation, fricative. The only 

difference is that s is unvoiced and z is voiced. 

(166) li min ḧelîan leş u hestî (AN1:45-47) 

me gut mare ezê geztî 

bi remza bazinêt destî 

The other instances of consonant feature rhyme occur in Nalbend’s Kiçkek Me 

Divêt, ‘We Want A Girl.’ After the initial quatrain, which has a rhyme scheme of AAXA, 

the poem follows a rhyme scheme of XAXA, rhyming every even numbered line. The 

disyllabic end rhymes follow the likes of mişti, tişti and ziştî, shown in (167). However, 

lines 16, 18, 22 and 28, shown in (168), depend on consonant feature rhyme in order to 

rhyme with the rest of the rhymed lines. In these instances, the sound j, the coda of the 

69 See § 4.2.2.

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penultimate syllable, is considered similar to ş in that both sounds are post-alveolar and 

fricative. The only difference, again, is the voicing. The consonant ş is unvoiced, while 

the consonant j is voiced. One word in (168), nekujtî, also differs in that the vowel u in 

the penultimate syllable is unlike the vowel i in the rest of the rhymed words. Potentially 

this can be considered vowel feature rhyme, which is discussed in § 5.3.3.1.5.2. Both 

vowels are near-close. However, u is a rounded, back vowel, while i is an unrounded, 

front vowel. 

(167) bêjît me kuro hilo vî tişt u miştî (AN5:6, 8, 10) 

me’na ku were bi xu vî tiştî 

wey, pa tu neyê kirêt u ziştî 

(168) me ji vî terefî dilê birijtî (AN5:16, 18, 22, 28) 

wey sed ëceb tu hêj nekujtî 

befira du şevî liser nihijtî 

’Işqa te ezim jiber buhijtî 

5.3.3.1.5.2 Vowel feature rhyme 

Vowel feature rhymes may not depend on only one feature difference but on how 

close the vowels are to each other, which may entail more than one feature difference. 

For the discussion that follows, I will refer to vowel features as shown in the Northern 

Kurdish vowel chart in Figure 2. This vowel chart is similar to the IPA vowel chart but 

contains the letters from the Northern Kurdish Latin script orthography. For ease of 

reference, I have included the IPA vowel chart as Figure 3. 

Vowels that are on the immediate left side of a line are unrounded, while those on 

the immediate right are rounded. The letter i is unrounded and the letter u is rounded. 

Also notice the oval showing the variability of the letter e. As discussed in Chapter 4, the 

sound for e varies from word to word, and, so it seems, from dialect to dialect. Opinions 

vary insofar as what is believed to be the medial or most common sound for the letter. 

The oval does not signify that the sounds for e are sometimes rounded. The sounds are 

always unrounded, or in the instance of the sound //, it is neither unrounded or rounded. 

In Figure 2, I have chosen to place the letter e in the position corresponding to the sound 

//, a medial position to the sounds of //, /ɛ/ and /æ/, which are the three symbols

127 

analysts have used to describe the sound of the letter e. The symbol // is also the sound 

which I personally believe to be the most commonly spoken sound for words containing 

the letter e, as spoken in the Badinan area of Northern Iraq. 

Close 

Near-close 

Front Central Back 

î 

i u 

Close-mid ê o 

û 

Open-mid 

e 

Open 

a 

Figure 2. Northern Kurdish vowel chart. 

Figure 3. IPA vowel chart. 

In Cegerxwîn’s poem Dînê Me Tête Zanîn, ‘Our Religion Is Becoming Known,’ 

every even line number ends with either in or în. Example (169) shows two of these lines 

from the poem. The difference between vowels i and î is minimal. The letter î is a close,

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front vowel. The letter i is a near-close, near-front vowel. Both vowels are unrounded. 

Because of the proximity of both vowels, this rhyme may be considered a feature rhyme. 

(169) bê zar u xet u xwendin, li nav xelkê dewarin. (CX3:6, 8) 

her dem dikin mitala, daxwaz ji wan re havîn. 

There were four other vowel feature rhymes that were fairly close, all from 

different poems. In example (170), there is a rhyme between û and u in the words nebû, 

vebû and sebu. Both vowels are rounded. The letter û is a back, close vowel, while u is a 

near-back, near-close vowel. These vowels are basically the same distance from one 

another as the vowels in first example, i and î. In example (171), ê and î are a feature 

rhyme in the rhyme of Kurdistanê ket and bistanî ket. In this case î, at the end of bistanî, 

is a little more distant from ê at the end of Kurdistanê. However, both vowels have the 

features of being unrounded and front. The only difference is that ê is a close-mid vowel, 

while î is a close vowel. The feature rhyme also works due to it being in a four-syllable 

sequence. 

(170) ew bidestê xu bal qatil nebû (AN4:9-11) 

dergihê fitna ‘iraqê buyî vebû 

bu fesada ‘alemê nê ew sebu 

(171) agir bi Kurdistanê ket lewra haware dil; (CX1:1, 2) 

sed baẍ u sed bistanî ket manendî bilbil jare dil 

Slightly more distant from one another are the rhymes of e and i. The two 

instances where these feature rhymes were found are below in examples (172), where the 

rhymed words are serbu and girbu, and (173), where the rhymed words are alvina, ‘ena 

and mewtena. Both vowels are unrounded. The letter e is a front-to-central vowel and the 

letter i is a near-front vowel. Where they differ more is in closeness. The letter i is nearclose 

but e is between open-mid and near-open. 

(172) çi çaxek bu wî dest pê kir ku Kurdî hîngê bê serbu (BS7:10, 11) 

kewek bu lê neçu ravê ji kewgiran nekew girbu 

(173) ḧeqe ku ew dar u alvina ya bizeḧmeye u renc u ‘ena (AN3:13, 14) 

teşbîhî kepirêt mewtena jê barkirin şula meye 

Regarding example (173), one may consider that the rhyme is only one syllable, 

na. However, I have two reasons for considering this to be a feature rhyme. First, there

129 

are three lines and two of the three rhymes contain ena. Second, if one looks at all of the 

end rhymes in the poem Ey Malikê Vê ‘Alemê, ‘O Lord Of This World,’ one can see that 

Nalbend was intentionally writing two syllable rhymes. 

With this in mind, consider another rhyme from the same poem. Below in (174) 

is the rhyme of dileşî, xuşî and keşî. On the vowel chart the vowels e and u are quite 

distant from one another. Based on the distance and the dissimilarity of the two vowels, it 

seems best to consider the rhyme of xuşî with dileşî and keşî to be imperfect, not feature 

rhyme. 

(174) hindî we riḧ maye dileşî nabin dewam xêr u xuşî (AN3:29, 30) 

bu çî tu hêyî zeḧmet keşî ‘umrê me her bê faîdeye 

Four other rhymes are up for debate as to whether or not they should be 

considered feature rhymes. In all four instances i is to be compared with u. The distance 

between the two vowels is great. The only similarity is that both vowels have the feature 

of being near-close. 70 The letter i is near-front and the letter u is near-back. The letter i is 

unrounded while the letter u is rounded. In the examples below, the words under 

consideration are in italics. 

(175) dustê min .. boçî sile (BS3:9, 10, 12) 

dilê min ji ber wî kule 

agirê vînê her hile 

(176) kincê li sofî çadire (CX2: 20,24) 

wî daye ser rêça gure 

(177) xonavê teff kirin sunbul (AN1: 25-27) 

siḧarê xîv bi bûn sor gul 

yamin sot sing u cerg u dil 

(178) ew ji zik mak da pilnik bu, şahidî ḧebsa mîsil (BS1:39, 40) 

hêşta zaru bû demê ku dîtî ye kuvan u kul 

As mentioned, feature rhyme typically requires two sounds having two out of three 

features the same. Hence, we probably should consider the rhymes of u and i as being 

70 The term ‘near-close’ is found in Diagram 2 and corresponds to use of the term in the IPA vowel chart in 

Diagram 3.

130 

imperfect feature rhymes, since, in addition to distance, they differ in both backness and 

rounding. 

5.3.3.1.6 End rhyme without meter 

Two poems that were not written in verse form contained end rhymes. One of 

these, Fireka Baî, ‘A Sip of Wind,’ by Mu’eyed Teyb, was written in 1976. During this 

time of history, speakers of Northern Kurdish in Iraq were just beginning to discover 

prose poetry. Perhaps Teyb’s poem reflects this period, a time for discovering new ways 

while cherishing aspects of tradition. A portion of his poem showing rhymed endings is 

reproduced below in (179). The rhymed endings are in italics. I have also added letters to 

designate the rhyme scheme. 

(179) Kurdistanê! (MT3:1-19) 

fireka baî.. 

A 

ji çîayekê befir lê maî.. 

A' 

evroke..çavbeleka min.. 

ya girêdaî 

A' 

li bin kwînekê reş u drîaî.. 

A'' 

li nav deşteka bê bab u daî.. A 

roja arîaî.. 

A'' 

xîzê şarîaî.. 

A'' 

zerîa min ya 

di xuhê ra maî.. 

A 

ezê ditirsim.. 

ji dabera dom befir u xwîn 

B 

ji enîa kever.. 

ji nejna şirîn 

B' 

ji dilê evîn.. 

B 

lê bûî birîn.. 

B' 

ji cergê zozan.. 

C 

lê bûî kovan. 

C 

Clearly, the rhymes are somewhat dispersed and there is no consistent number of 

syllables per line, though there are many lines having five syllables. Every line does not 

necessarily rhyme and some rhymes are separated from one another by an intervening 

line with no rhyme. Rhyme A is a single syllable rhyme that rhymes with the

131 

multisyllable A' and A'' rhymes. The single syllable B rhymes rhyme with the 

multisyllable B' lines. 

In his poem Gutgutik, ‘Rumors,’ Şaban Silêman, a younger author whose earliest 

poems are dated in the year 2000, also used a varied rhyme scheme without holding to 

any particular verse form or syllable count. Below is a portion from the poem. Again, for 

ease of viewing, I have italicized the rhymed syllables and provided letters designating 

the rhymes. Note that rhymes C and F exhibit multisyllabic rhyming sequence, as 

discussed in § 5.3.3.1.3. 

(180) hindek yê ji keyfa pê firî A (SS1:6-21) 

hindek yê ji qehra pê mirî 

A 

çîçik dara siharîya 

B 

kurtîya duhî bu êk û dû vedguhêzin C 

gulêt baxça êvarîya 

B 

rwîdanêt nwî yêt rojane bu êk dibêjin C 

lê tinê gutgutkeke û pistpisteke 

D 

nizanim direwe yan rastîyeke 

D 

hind dibêjin ............... 

C 

û dîtina êkê ji evîna min 

E 

tu bûye agir û gurî 

F 

roja paştir tu bibûye rejî û xwelî 

F 

hind dibêjin 

C 

jimêjwere mêrga şaşa têlefona min E 

ji mesicêt te buharbu 

G 

maç û dila mil bi mil rêz û qentarbu G 

5.3.3.2 End rhyme in final lines of a prose poem 

In a prose poem (also called “free verse”) by Sindî the final rhymes, shown in 

example (181), seem to be intentional. The poem is a reflection about two very different 

times, the present, not being at all what the poet would have desired for his people, and 

the past, a time when he was filled with hope. The rhymed ending may serve to 

aesthetically reinforce the contrast between the times and point the reader/hearer to the 

past when the hope of the people was greater—a time when rhyme and line length, and 

perhaps meter, in poetry were more customary.

132 

(181) eman eman (BS6:42-45) 

derdu yeman 

sutim eman 

derdê giran 

5.3.3.3 Deviation from end rhyme 

In some situations a poet settles for a deviation from his or her intended rhyme 

scheme. The examples shown in Table 22 all show some sort of deviation. In the first 

example, ji me does not rhyme even one of its syllables with the two-syllable rhymes of 

jenî and renî. It does, however, rhyme the last syllable, me, with the last syllable of even 

number lines in the poem (not shown), which is not customary for this verse form. In the 

second example, the intended rhyme is two syllables; however, it seems Sindî settled on 

rhyming only the final syllable in darî with kê yî and befrê yî. In the last example, Sindî 

again settled for rhyming only the last syllable, in this instance ka in biçwîka, with 

neyara, hara and xwîndara. 

Table 22. Deviations. 

Poem Line numbers Rhyme Deviant 

AN3 17, 18 jenî, renî ji me 

BS2 19-22 kê yî, befrê yî darî 

BS2 28, 42, 56, 71 neyara, hara, 

xwîndara 

5.3.3.4 Head rhyme, internal rhyme and interlaced rhyme 

biçwîka 

Occasionally a poet of Neo-classical poetry is inspired to rhyme at the beginning 

of two or more lines. Such occasions are termed head rhyme, which is simply defined as 

a rhyme that occurs “at the beginnings of lines” (Turco 2000:49). Head rhyme, which is 

also called front rhyme or initial rhyme, is not to be confused with alliteration, which is 

“the repetition of initial stressed consonant sounds” (Turco 2000:54). 

In lines 30 and 31 of his poem Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On 

The Rooftop,’ shown in example (182), Nalbend rhymed at the third syllable from the 

beginning of the lines with ewê dil and miqabil. Also within these lines is the rhyme of

133 

ceger ker with liber anber. The following two lines both begin with şil u mil, which in 

two places rhyme with dil and miqabil in the previous lines. Two other features in these 

lines are the use of the word bû and the phonetic similarity heyî in the word muheyîya 

with the word hemî. In lines 34 and 35, a different head rhyme occurs with the first two 

syllables, kilê and dilê. 

(182) ewê dil bir ceger ker kir (AN1:30-35) 

miqabil me xûn liber anber kir 

şil u mil ew muheyîya bû 

şil u mil bû hemî gava 

kilê rreş her tijî cava 

dilê min teyre ket dava 

Some lines in Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal 

Barzanî,’ contain rhymes starting from the beginning and, in most cases, proceeding to 

the midpoint of the line. Such rhyme that occurs within the line is known as internal 

rhyme (Adams 1997:201) The first example, in (183), is from the first line of the poem. 

The sequence xanê xanan canê canan works to rhyme two noun phrases, ending at the 

midpoint in the line. The exclamation commands the attention of the reader or hearer, 

setting the stage for the eulogy that follows. In line 4, shown in (184), the words bazê 

bazan şahê Kurdan rhyme with those in (183). Through these words Sindî reinforces his 

wish, that Barzanî be remembered for the role he played, and continues to play by way of 

his example, for the Kurdish people. In example (185), the fourth line from the end of the 

poem, the rhyme şahê bazan mîrê qadan wî nebadan works as a lasting echo, to fix in the 

minds of the reader/hearer descriptive titles that the poet attributes to Barzanî, as well as 

the commitment he gave to his people. In this example, the rhyme extends to the 12 th 

syllable and the clauses revive the rhymes from lines 1 and 4. Lastly, in line 44, the first 

four syllables, lew ji hîngê, rhyme perfectly with syllables 5 through 8, ew li sîngê, 

serving as a kind of circle back to link with the beginning of the poem. 

(183) xanê xanan canê canan tu bike lutif u were (BS1:1) 

‘The khan of khans, soul of souls―be beneficent and come back.’ 

(184) bazê bazan şahê Kurdan ruhinîya çavê meyî (BS1:4) 

‘The hawk of hawks, king of Kurds―you are the lights of our eyes’

134 

(185) şahê bazan mîrê qadan wî nebadan hizir u bîr (BS1:43, 44) 

‘The king of falcons, the leader of the battlefields―he did not deviate from (his) 

ideas and thoughts.’ 

lew ji hîngê ew li sîngê cane bexşên genc u pîr 

‘That’s why since that time he (is) in the heart (chest) of the fresh offerings of the 

adolescent and the old.’ 

Dilê Cegerxwîn, ‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart,’ also contains a couple of instances of 

internal rhyme. Cegerxwîn added the rhyme of rişteme with the words xateme and 

deyleme, in line 9, and hemdeme, in line 10. These last three words make up the first 

three end line rhymes of a quatrain. 71 Rişteme is an additional internal rhyme. 

(186) geh rişteme, geh xateme, geh padîşahê deyleme; (CX1:9, 10) 

bê yar u dost u hemdeme, lew mest u gerdenxware dil 

In another line of the same poem, the beginning words, geh are dil, rhyme with 

the words that begin immediately after the midway point, geh tare dil. These may more 

properly be considered as interlaced rhyme, discussed below. Also notice the rhyme of 

are with ave, in the first hemistich, and tare with tave, in the second hemistich. 

(187) geh are dil, geh ave dil, geh tare dil geh tave dil (CX1:15) 

Considering the additional positions in which rhyme is found in the verse poetry in this 

corpus, one can expect to find similar rhymes, and perhaps others, if one were to conduct 

a more extensive survey of Northern Kurdish poetry. 

According to Turco, interlaced rhyme is when there is a rhyme between the 

center of one line and the center of the previous or following line (Turco 2000:53). 

Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ also contains 

many instances of this type of rhyme. In the first example, Sindî rhymed the words 

hîvîan, mirîdan and Kurdan. 

71 Dilê Cegerxwîin is written as couplets but is best considered a poem written in the çuarkî, or quatrain, 

form, because of its rhyme scheme.

135 

(188) em li ber şewqa hîvîan çav melê ye bêye ve (BS1:3-5) 

tu bike rehimê ji mirîdan kengî dê tu hêye ve 

bazê bazan şahê Kurdan ruhinîya çavê meyî 

The following are other examples from the same poem. The interlaced rhymes are in 

italics. 

(189) raza ‘şqê ji qîdem ra derde ye u kuvane dil (BS1:7, 8) 

kî dê sax kit ji ezel ra dil geşe u perwane dil 

(190) şînyî u tazî ji gelî bûn çep u rast u jor u jêr (BS1:15-18) 

şev u roj xelkî girî bûn kal u genc u jin u mêr 

mililetê Kurd pir wefaye sufîên destên tene 

ruh ji êşan pir semaye ‘aşiq u mestên tene 

(191) wêne ya suz u di lêran xuîaye ser ruîmetê (BS1:37, 38) 

wer bixuînin ey hevalan ayeta xuş hîmetê 

While these rhymes are reminiscent of what you’d expect to see in quatrain form, they 

are not the dominant feature throughout in the poem, which is written in couplets. Of the 

46 lines in the poem, a case could be made for 20 lines as having at least one syllable of 

interlaced rhyme. 

In one couplet from the poem, lines 19 and 20, Sindî uses three words ending in 

l―dil, gul and şemal. This seems quite intentional because in the second line of the 

couplet, the words in the same positions, adar, azar and bajar, all rhyme. The nonrhyming 

words in line 19 should be considered as an instance of consonance, which is 

the repetition of the same or similar sounding consonants with different vowels (Adams 

1997:200). (Note, though, that dil does rhyme with hil at the end of the line.) The 

consonance works, perhaps, to prepare the reader for the perfect rhymes that follow in 

line 20. 

(192) erê ey dil kanê ew gul ka şemala geş u hil (BS1:19, 20) 

buçî (adar) 72 buye azar buçî bajar bu kavil 

72 The parentheses here appear in the original text.

136 

5.4 On the syntactic level 

In the following sections, I discuss instances of syntactic variation in the corpus. 

In some instances, an aspect of normal language has not been adhered to, such as normal 

constituent order. Other instances exhibit ellipsis or some other syntactic tool the poet has 

used for reason of syllable count, rhyme or some other aesthetic effect. 

5.4.1.1 Constituent order 

The study of constituent orders that deviate from normal constituent order helps 

one understand what is permissible in a language. Some constituent order shifts may be 

pragmatically motivated. However, some, especially in poetry, and literature in general, 

have other motivations. To understand these motivations, we must become familiar with 

some new terms. 

Foregrounding is a term that was applied to Mukarovský's original term, 

aktualisace, when it was translated into English in 1932. It is used to describe a number 

of stylistic effects in literature at all levels: phonetic (e.g., alliteration, rhyme), 

grammatical (e.g., inversion, ellipsis) and semantic (e.g., metaphor, irony). 

Foregrounding occurs when we use language that is other than normal. It causes what is 

termed as deautomatization, the disruption of normal cognitive processes, whereas with 

normal language, automatization occurs, where there is no disruption of normal 

cognitive processes. The more something is foregrounded, the more conscious it becomes 

(Miall and Kuiken 1994:390). 

Regarding this act of foregrounding, Viktor Shklovsky, the Russian Formalist 

critic, had the following to say regarding art in general, 

The purpose of art is to impart the sensation of things as they are 

perceived and not as they are known. The technique of art is to make 

objects "unfamiliar," to make forms difficult, to increase the difficulty and 

length of perception because the process of perception is an aesthetic end 

in itself and must be prolonged. (1965:12)

137 

Hence, “the immediate effect of foregrounding is to make strange (ostranenie), to achieve 

defamiliarization” (Miall and Kuiken 1994:391). 

In his book, Word Order Variation in Hebrew Poetry: Differentiating Pragmatics 

and Poetics (2006), Nicholas Lunn addresses the issue of word-order variations in B- 

lines of parallelisms, a poetic device common in ancient Hebrew poetry. In his chapter 

on defamiliarized word order in parallel lines, he says: 

If pragmatics fails to account for the variation exhibited by parallel lines, 

then what is the motivating factor that produces such a feature? We would 

maintain that the characteristics of non-canonical B-lines in parallelisms 

point us in the direction of a purely poetic manner of word-order variation 

(Lunn 2006:105). 

In the corpus, constituent order deviation was predominately found in poems of 

the Neo-classical style. In some cases, constituent order deviation may have helped poets 

reach desired end rhymes, syllable counts and/or meters. A poet may find that while 

change in constituent order may produce a difference in pragmatic meaning, such as 

indicating that a certain constituent is focal, such deviation may remain within the bounds 

of what the poet wants to communicate and may not necessarily be the reason for the 

change in constituent order. Such may be the case in examples where end rhyme is 

reached by means of syntactic deviation. However, in some situations, a change from 

normal word order may simply express a poet’s desire to defamiliarize a word, phrase, or 

an entire line of poetry, making it more salient, more conscious in the mind of the reader. 

While prosaic word order abounded in free verse poetry, there were still some noteworthy 

instances of constituent order deviation. 

In the discussion that follows, I provide evidence for various constituent order 

deviations found in the corpus. The subject of differentiating between pragmatic 

motivations, such as topic and focus, and poetic effects, such as defamiliarization, is an 

area for further study.

138 

5.4.1.1.1 Verb-Subject 

In § 4.4.1.2, I showed that normal constituent order for intransitive clauses is 

Subject-Verb (SV). The corpus contains many instances of deviation from this norm. For 

example, in Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ the 

verb appears before the subject in each of the following two lines. In example (193), the 

complex verb şîn bibin 73 means ‘grow’ and appears before the subject nêrgiz, ‘narcissus,’ 

a flower indigenous to the Kurdish region. In (194), the subject, ‘endelîb, an Arabic word 

for a specific type of bird, appears after the verb bixuînin, ‘may sing.’ 

(193) şîn_bi-b-in nêrgiz ji nuve ber der-ê (BS1:11, 12) 

grow_IRR-grow-IMP.PL narcissus from now.on before place-EZ.M 

tekî-a 

ber-ê 



(194) cardin bi-xuîn-in ‘endelîb 74 ew ji ‘şq-a daber-ê 

again IRR-sing-IMP.PL birds 3D from love-EZ.F sweetheart-OBL.F 

‘Again may birds sing―that song from the love of the lover.’ 

Sindî also used VS order in line 24 of Dergehê Jîn u Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life 

and Hopes.’ Here the subject consists of the words gulên çîayan, ‘the flowers of the 

mountains.’ These come after the passive verb kuzrîn, ‘has been burned.’ 

(195) kuzrî-n gul-ên çîa-yan nêrgiz-ên şeng (BS4:24) 


u şepal 

and bright 


In line 24 of Mîrê Peyvan, ‘The Prince of Words,’ Sindî placed the subject dil, 

‘heart,’ after the verb disujit, ‘is burning.’ 

(196) gelo lewra di-su-jit dil ku cih kew (BS7:24) 

people that’s.why IPFV-burn.PRS-3SG heart because place partridge 

73 The word şîn, by itself, has two meanings: (1) mourning, and (2) blue or green. The verb şîn bibin seems 

to be a metaphorical use of şîn that became lexicalized as’grow’ or more literally ‘to become green.’ 

74 An Arabic word for a specific type of bird.

139 

evro vala=ye 

today vacant=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘People, that’s why the heart is burning, because the place of the partridge today is 

vacant.’ 

Sindî put the subject ceger, ‘liver,’ after the verb sutî ye, ‘has burned,’ in line 14 

of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî.’ Normal constituent 

order for this phrase would have been ceger li me sutî ye. Note that in this line, the 

prepositional phrase, li me, ‘in me,’ is also in an uncommon location, before the subject it 

modifies. In this instance, ceger was likely so positioned to rhyme with qeder in line 13, 

also shown. 

(197) lê_belê dest-ê Xudan-î ew=e neqiqaş-ê (BS1:13, 14) 

yes hand-EZ.M Lord-OBL.M 3D=COP.PRS.3SG painter-EZ.M 

qeder 

fate 

‘Yes it’s in God’s hand; he’s the painter of fate.’ 

wî wesa ferman-ek da-yî sut-î-Ø-ye li 

3OM like.that order-INDF give.PST-3SG burn:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG in 

me ceger 

1OP liver 

‘He gave an order like that; the liver in us has burned.’ 

Sindî also inverted part of a complex verb, guh da, ‘listen,’ putting the subject, 

min, ‘I,’ after the nonverbal part of the verb, guh (literally ‘ear’), but before the verbal 

portion of the idiom, da, which literally means ‘give.’ 

(198) guh min da-Ø awaz u lavç-an deng-ê saz-a (BS5:4) 

ear 1O give.PST-3SG music and song-OBL-PL sound-EZ.M guitar-EZ.F 

min ne-hat-Ø 

1O NEG-come.PST-3SG 

‘I listened to melodies and songs―the sound of my guitar did not come.’ 

Nalbend also used VS word order in Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning 

On The Rooftop,’ probably to rhyme hestî, part of the compound subject leş u hestî, 

‘flesh and bone,’ with geztî, ‘had bitten,’ and destî, ‘hand,’ in lines 46 and 47, shown 

below in (199). With normal constituent order, a speaker would have said leş u hestîyê 

min ḧelîan. Notice here that in normal speech the personal pronoun min, ‘me,’ is attached

140 

to the subject via the ezafe yê on hestî. However, Nalbend put min in a prepositional 

phrase, li min, ‘in me,’ and the line remains understandable to the reader. I say more on 

this aspect of using a prepositional phrase in lieu of a personal pronoun attached via the 

ezafe particle in § 5.4.1.1.12. 

(199) li min ḧelîa-n leş u hestî (AN1:45-47) 

in 1O melt.PST-3PL flesh and bone 

‘My flesh and bone melted.’ 

me gut mar=e ez-ê geztî 

1OP say.PST-3SG snake=COP.PRS.3SG 1D-EZ.M bite.PST.PTCP 

‘We thought it’s a snake that has bitten me.’ 

bi remz-a bazin-êt dest-î 

by signal-EZ.F bracelet-EZ.PL hand-OBL.M 

‘By means of the signal of the hand bracelets.’ 

Nalbend also utilizes VS order in a similar way in his poem Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, 

ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven.’ In line 54, he put the compound subject cerg u dil, ‘liver 

and heart,’ at the end of the line in order to rhyme dil with the words mil, shoulder,’ and 

sil, ‘angry,’ in lines 53 and 55, shown here in (200). 

(200) zend u til u bask u mil (AN2:53-55) 

forearm and finger and arm and shoulder 

‘Forearm and finger and arm and shoulder’ 

sutî li min cerg u dil 

burn.PST.PTCP in 1O liver and heart 

‘The liver and heart in me are burnt.’ 

Alternative translation: ‘My liver and heart are burnt.’ 

av rîl wan şêr-e sil 

water rîl 3OP lions angry 

‘Water rîl 75 them the lion is angry.’ 

In line 64 of the same poem, the subject, pilingê nehîn, ‘courageous tiger,’ comes after 

the verb, hatî, ‘has come.’ Nehîn, ‘courageous,’ rhymes with the rest of the final lines in 

the each quatrain (not shown). All end in -în. 

75 Meaning unknown.

141 

(201) hatî piling-ê nehîn (AN2:64) 

come.PST.PTCP tiger-EZ.M courageous 

‘It has come, the courageous tiger.’ 

VS word order was used several times in a free verse poem, Dahola Êşê, ‘Drum 

of Pain,’ by Mesud Xalaf. In (202), the head noun xweziyên, ‘desires,’ and the rest of the 

noun phrase that follows, is positioned after the verb difirîn, ‘were flying.’ In (203), the 

subject aşûpên bextewariyê, ‘visions of happiness,’ comes after the verb bijale bûn, ‘were 

scattered.’ In the last example, (204), the passive verb hatine kuştin, ‘became killed,’ is 

before the subject noun phrase beginning with pirpirîkên, ‘butterflies,’ the head noun. 

Minimally, this VS order shows that at least one modern poet, writing in prose, has 

chosen to deviate from normal constituent order. 

(202) bê sînor di-firî-n xweziy-ên bê nav û nîşan (MX:8) 

Without limit IPFV.fly.PST-3PL desire-EZ.PL without name and address 

‘Desires without name and address were flying without limit.’ 

(203) bijale bû-n aşûp-ên bextewar-yê (MX:32) 

scatter-PST.PTCP COP.PST-3PL visions-EZ.PL happiness-OBL.F 

‘The visions of the happiness were scattered.’ 

(204) hat-in=e kuşt-in pirpirîk-ên deng-ê (MX:33) 




‘The butterflies of the sound of wounded fire were killed.’ 

5.4.1.1.2 Adjective Phrase/Noun Phrase-Copula-Subject 

The corpus contained both Attributive (adjective phrase as predicate) and 

Equative (noun phrase as predicate) clauses wherein the subject was put after the copula. 

Typically the order for copular sentences is Subject – Predicate Adjective Phrase or Noun 

Phrase – Copula. In one poem in particular, Cegerxwîn’s Dilê Cegerxwîn, ‘Cegerxwîn’s 

Heart,’ one defining feature of the poem is that subjects come at the end of most phrases. 

For example, in line 4, shown in (205), the attribute xwînxwar, ‘terrible,’ with the 3SG 

copula, e, comes before the subject dil, ‘heart.’ In fact, the word dil and its referent, ew, 

3D, are subjects at the end of many phrases throughout the poem.

142 

(205) aman welat, aman welat, bawer bi-k-in xwînxwar=e (CX1:4) 

alas region alas region belief IRR-do.IMP.PL terrible=COP.PRS.3SG 

dil 

heart 

‘Alas my home, alas my home―Believe me, (my) heart is terrible.’ 

Consider also lines 6 and 7 from the same poem, shown in example (206). Line 6 

ends with the subject dil. The predicate, naxoş u hem bêzare, ‘is unwell and always 

despondent,’ precedes it. In line 7 the pronoun ew, 3D, in two places, is a referent of dil 

and in each instance comes after the predicates with attached copulas. 

(206) her gav u her êvar-ê min, naxoş u hem (CX1:6) 

every morning and every evening-EZ.M 1O, unwell and always 

bêzar=e 

dil 

despondent=COP.PRS.3SG heart 

‘Every morning and every evening of mine, the heart is unwell and always 

despondent.’ 

bêzar u pir naxoş=e ew, kinc-ên sîyeh – (CX1:7) 

despondent and quite unwell=COP.PRS.3SG 3D, garment-EZ.PL mourning – 

gûn 76 – poş=e ew 

manner – sorrowful=COP.PRS.3SG it 

‘It’s despondent and quite unwell, dressed in garments of mourning; it’s sorrowful.’ 

Nalbend also took liberty to put the subject after an Adjective Phrase and copula. 

The normal word order for line 9 of Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven,’ 

shown in (207), would have been bihara lê xoş tazeye, literally ‘spring in it nice beautiful 

is.’ However, Nalbend, changed the word order so as to utilize the ar ending on the word 

bihar, the subject, at the end of the line, rhyming it with darubar, ‘forest,’ and hizar, 

‘thousand’ in lines 10 and 11, also shown. 

(207) taze=ye lê xoş bihar (AN2:9-11) 

beautiful=COP.PRS.3SG in.it nice spring 

‘A nice spring in it is beautiful.’ 

76 I am unsure how kincên sîyeh and gûn fit into the phrases. The translation for gûn is questionable. The 

dashes (–) are part of the original text.

143 

baẍ u rez u darubar 

garden and orchard and forest 

‘garden and orchard and forest’ 

cins-ê kulîlk-a hizar 

specie-EZ.M flower-OBL.PL thousand 

‘a thousand species of flowers’ 

In another poem by Nalbend, Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On The 

Rooftop,’ we find a similar situation. In line 39, shown in (208), the subject ez, 1D, while 

not at the end of the phrase, comes after the attribute and copula. The normal word order 

for the phrase is ez dirêj bûm li kulanê, which still has kulanê at the end of the line. 

Hence, Nalbend must have had some reason other than rhyme for the order he chose. 

(208) dirêj_bû-m ez li kulan-ê (AN1:39) 

lie.down_COP.PST-1SG 1D in alley-OBL.F 

‘I layed down in the alley.’ 

Xalaf’s Dahola Êşê, ‘Drum of Pain,’ contains an equative sentence with the 

subject, ew şev, ‘that night,’ at the end of the line. It is preceded by the entire predicate, 

kefenekî spî bû, ‘was a white shroud.’ As with the VS order in the previous section, it is 

interesting to find this constituent order in a prose poem. 

(209) belkî kefen-ek-î 77 spî bû-Ø ew şev (MX:17) 

perhaps shroud-INDF-EZ.M white COP.PST-3SG 3D night 

‘Perhaps that night was a white shroud.’ 

In one line from a Sindî poem, I thought I had found another example of a subject 

being out of place. However, according to my consultant the phrase nabit eve is perfectly 

acceptable in the language, as is eve nabit. Nabit consists of a negator prefix, na-, and the 

3SG copula bit. Eve consists of ev, which means ‘this,’ and the specific reference marker, 

-e (SRM). I suppose this particular phrase has become lexicalized in the language. This 

leaves the possibility of seeing other similar phrases used in common speech where a 

pronoun subject comes after an equative predicate. 

77 It seems unusual to see a masculine ezafe -î in the Badinan area. Perhaps it is common in the spoken 

langauge of area Xalaf’s family came from.

144 

Lastly, line 9 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ contains 

two equative phrases, one with normal word order and one with an Adjective 

Phrase/Noun Phrase-Copula-Subject word order. Kavil can be either a noun meaning 

‘ruin’ or an adjective meaning ‘ruined’ or ‘destroyed.’ This word and the connecting 3SG 

copula, e, are followed by the subject fezê gulan, which means ‘farm of flowers.’ Because 

mişexit, in the first phrase, is a noun, literally ‘a displaced person’ or ‘an exile,’ I tend to 

think that kavil is also being used as a noun, ‘ruin,’ in the second phrase. Note that this 

line exhibits a chiastic structure, SBJ-PRED-PRED-SBJ, where the structure of the second 

clause is the inverse of the first. However, the motivation to place gulan at the end of the 

line was likely not to produce chiasmus but to rhyme it with the final word in line 10, 

dilan (not shown). See § 5.4.1.4.4 for the discussion on chiasmus. 

(210) bilbil-ê bê kes mişexit=e u (BS4:9) 

nightingale-EZ.M without anyone exile=COP.PRS.3SG and 

kavil=e fez-ê gul-an 

ruin=COP.PRS.3SG farm-EZ.M flower-OBL.PL 

‘The single nightingale is an exile and the farm of flowers are a ruin’ 

5.4.1.1.3 Subject-Verb-Object 

As discussed in § 4.4.1.2, the normal constituent order for Northern Kurdish is 

SOV. Within the corpus I found numerous instances where Sindî put an object after a 

verb. In line 4 of Bîwerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, shown in example (211), we know that 

reḧmê, ‘compassion,’ is a noun and not a part of a complex verb, because it ends with the 

feminine oblique marker, -ê. According to my consultant, “for poetic effect” Sindî placed 

the object after the verb bike, ‘do.’ Also, reḧim is an Arabic word. The Northern Kurdish 

word for compassion is dilovanî, a four syllable word. It seems that Sindî resorted to use 

of an Arabic word because reḧim, even with the oblique marker, is only two syllables. As 

discussed in § 5.3.2 on syllable count, the i in reḧim elides with the addition of the oblique 

marker. The m becomes the onset of the second syllable. 

(211) tu bi-ke reḧm-ê ji mirîd-an kengî dê (BS1:4) 

2D IRR-do.IMP.SG compassion-OBL.F for disciple-OBL.PL when will

145 

tu hêye ve 

2D exist.PRS.2SG again 

‘Be compassionate to (your) disciples; when will you be back?’ 

Line 1 of the same poem has a similar situation as (211) where an object follows 

the imperative, bike, ‘do.’ In this instance, the object is again an Arabic word, lutif, 

which, means ‘kindness’ or, as it was translated, ‘benevolence.’ According to my 

consultant, Kurds do not typically add Kurdish suffixes when using Arabic words. 78 

Additionally, while it is true that the normal order for Arabic is VSO, Sindî’s confession 

during my interview with him, that he tries to write in pure Kurdish, precludes us from 

thinking that he would resort to Arabic word order. 

(212) xan-ê xan-an can-ê can-an tu bi-ke (BS1:1) 

Khan-EZ.M Khans-OBL.PL soul-EZ.M soul-OBL.PL 2D IRR-do.IMP.SG 

lutif u were 

benevolence and come.IMP.SG 

‘Khan of khans, soul of souls―be beneficent and come back.’ 

Now, if Sindî were to have used the Northern Kurdish word for ‘kindness,’ başî, 

he would have written tu bike başîekê. (Normal SOV word order is tu başîekê bike.) The 

word başîekê includes both the indefinite article suffix, -ek, and the feminine oblique 

marker, -ê. Hence, lutif must be an object and not part of a compound verb. It is possible 

that Sindî resorted to this Arabic word for some nuance of meaning; however, it seems 

more likely that he used lutif (without the suffixes -ekê) because it offered him two 

syllables versus the four syllables in başîekê. 

In line 43 of the same poem, shown in (213), a compound object, hizir u bîr, ‘idea 

and thought,’ is positioned after the verb nebadan, ‘not surrender.’ Having the object at 

the end allowed Sindî to rhyme bîr, ‘thought,’ with pîr, ‘elder,’ in line 44, also shown. 

78 Some Arabic words have been used for such a long time that they have becoming part of the Kurdish 

lexicon. One example would be the word for ‘school.’ In the Badinan region of Northern Iraq, both of the 

words commonly used for ‘school,’ mekteb and medrese, come from near Arabic equivalents. According to 

Chyet (2003:673), the Northern Kurdish word for school is xwendegeh.

146 

(213) şah-ê baz-an mîr-ê Qad-an wî ne-bada-n (BS1:43) 

king-EZ.M falcon-OBL.PL leader-EZ.M field-OBL.PL 3OM NEG-surrender.PST-3PL 

hizir u bîr 

idea and thought 

‘The king of falcons, the leader of the fields, 79 he did not deviate from (his) ideas 

and thoughts.’ 

lew ji hîngê ew li sîngê can=e (BS1:44) 

that.is.why from then 3D in chest-EZ.M beautiful=COP.PRS.3SG, 

bexş-ên genc u pîr 

offering-EZ.PL youth and elder 

‘That’s why since that time he (is) in the heart (chest) of the fresh offerings of the 

youth and the old.’ 

In Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, ‘A Walk Through Kurdistan,’ Sindî put the object 

at the end of three lines, likely for rhyming purposes. In the first line of (214), the object 

cwanek, ‘a pretty lady,’ would normally come before the verb dît, ‘saw.’ In the first line 

of (215), the object, vî canî, would normally come before the verb, gurîkim, ‘sacrifice.’ 

Lastly, in the second line of (216), the object, yarîa bîka, ‘doll games,’ is positioned after 

the verb, dikirin, ‘were playing.’ The line with normal constituent order would have been 

yarîa bîka pê dikirin. 80 The prepositional phrase, pê, a contraction of the preposition bi 

and the 3SG oblique pronoun wî, refers back to darek, ‘a stick,’ in line 31. The rhymed 

lines are shown in each example. 

(214) min dît-Ø li wêrê cwan-ek (BS2:3, 4) 

I see.PST-3sg at there pretty.lady-INDF 

‘I saw a pretty lady there.’ 

awir di-da-Ø ji alek 

wink IPFV-give.PST-3SG from corner 

‘She was winking from a corner.’ 

79 The word qad by itself means ‘field, open space.’ Here it may refer to a battlefield, which is qada şer, 

‘field of battle.’ 

80 The verb ‘play’ is idiomatic and consists of yarî, ‘game,’ and the verb kirin, which means ‘do’ or ‘make.’ 

Yarî becomes part of the object when modifiers are attached to it, as is the case in this example. There are 

many similar idiomatic verbs in Northern Kurdish.

147 

(215) dê gurîk-im vî can-î (BS2:68, 79) 

will sacrifice.PRS-1SG this soul-OBL.M 

‘I will sacrifice this soul,’ 

neman u yan Barzanî 81 

to.be.destroyed and or Barzanî 

‘Either to die or be with Barzanî.’ 

(216) dar-ek di dest biçwîk-a (BS2:31, 32) 

stick-INDF in hand child-OBL.PL 

‘A stick in children’s hands.’ 

pê di-kir-in yarî-a bîk-a (BS2:32) 

with.3OM IPFV-play.PST-3PL game-EZ.F doll-OBL.PL 

‘They were playing doll games with it.’ 

In line 45 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ Sindî put the 

object dilê bi xwîn, ‘heart with blood,’ at the end of line 45, rhyming xwîn, ‘blood,’ with 

Zîn, a fictional character, Xanîqîn, a city, and evîn, ‘love,’ in lines 43, 44 and 46. 

(217) nabitin bu me tewaf-a ew cih-ê lê Mem u (BS4:43) 

not.allowed for 1OP worship-EZ.F 3D place-EZ.M in.3OM Mem and 

Zîn 82 

Zîn 

‘We can’t go and worship the place of Mem and Zeen.’ 

nabitin evro bi-bur-în ji tuxîb-ê Xanîqîn (BS4:44) 

not.permitted today IRR-pass.PRS-2PL from danger-EZ.M Xanîqeen 

‘It’s impossible today for us to pass from the danger of Xanîqeen.’ 

nabitin bi-ç-im nik Xanî bu vek-im (BS4:45) 

not.allowed IRR-go.PRS-1SG near Xanî for (him) open.PRS-1SG 

81 According to my consultant, Sindî changed a common Bahdini idiom, yan Kurdistan yan neman, 

substituting Barzanî for Kurdistan. He also said, “Sometimes people use it as a joke and put a word in 

between,” a word other than Barzanî. In this example, Sindî not only changed the word order but also used 

the word u, which is a conjunction meaning ‘and.’ Somehow my consultant still understood from the line 

Sindî’s intended meaning. According to Chyet, neman is the infinitive form of the word that means ‘to be 

destroyed’ or ‘to perish.’ 

82 Mem and Zîn are the central characters of one of the most famous pieces of Kurdish literature, Mem U 

Zîn, written by Ehmed Xanî, who is mentioned in line 45 of Sindî’s poem.

148 

dil-ê bi xwîn 

heart-EZ.M with blood 

‘I can’t go near Xanî and open for (him) my heart with blood (sadness).’ 

nabitin bi-ç-im Dêrsîm-ê bi-kelêş-im (BS4:46) 

not.allowed IRR-go.PRS-1SG Derseem-OBL.F IRR-break.body.PRS-1SG 

dil-ê bi evîn 

heart-EZ.M with love 

‘I can’t go to Derseem and break in two pieces my heart with love.’ 

In line 12 of the same poem, the object cerg u sî, ‘liver and lung,’ comes after the 

verb piçandin, ‘frightened.’ In this case, Sindî must have had some pragmatic or poetic 

reason for placing the object after the verb. The line could have been written with normal 

constituent order, still ending with the conjunction yan, ‘or,’ as the conjunction is being 

used on the sentence-level, to connect the sentence that follows in line 13 (not shown). 

(218) lurîn-a gurg-a li nîv şev-an piçand-in (BS4:12) 

sound-EZ.F wolf-OBL-PL in middle night-OBL.PL frighten.PST-3PL 

cerg u sî yan 83 

liver and lung or 

‘In the middle of the nights, the howling of wolves frightened the liver and lung or’ 

Nalbend also used SVO order in a number of lines in Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We Want 

A Girl.’ In line 5, shown in (219), the object têşt u şîva, ‘breakfast and dinner,’ is at the 

end of the line, after the verb bidet, ‘gives,’ and the recipient me, 3OP. The entire poem 

only rhymes on the even numbered lines; hence, Nalbend must have had some reason 

other than end rhyme for this constituent order. 

(219) gava ko bi-d-et me têşt u şîv-a (AN5:5) 

when that IRR-give.PRS-3SG 1OP breakfast and dinner-OBL.PL 

‘When she gives us breakfasts and dinners.’ 

In the first line of (220), from the same poem, the object, mirç u maça, ‘kisses and louder 

kisses,’ comes after the verb, bidem, ‘give,’ and the recipient, te, 2O. In the following 

line, the object, zixt u xiştî (see footnote concerning the translation), also comes after the 

83 Seeing the conjunction yan, ‘or,’ at the end of a line in poetry is quite uncommon. However, in Deyka 

Dalyayê’s Ji Nazên Te Xerîbim, a prose poem, there are many lines ending with the conjunction u, ‘and.’

149 

verb and recipient, bidey me. In this case, xiştî is part of the rhyme scheme of the poem, 

rhyming with every even numbered line. 84 The constituent orders of these lines, being 

alike, qualify it as a grammatical parallelism, discussed in § 5.4.1.4.2. 

(220) te di-vêt-Ø ku bi-d-em te mirç u (AN5:23, 24) 

2O IPFV-want.PRS-3SG that IRR-give.PRS-1SG 2O kiss and 

maç-a 

loud.kiss-OBL.PL 

‘You want me to give you kisses and smooches (louder kisses).’ 

me di-vêt-Ø tu bi-de-y me zixt 

1OP IPFV-want.PRS-3SG 2D IRR-give.PRS-2SG 1OP nail.on.end.of.oxgoad 

u xişt-î 85 

and staff-OBL.M 

‘We want you to give us the nail on the end of an oxgoad (pressure/pounding heart) 

and the staff.’ 

The last line of the poem also exhibits SVO order. In (221) the object tu, 2D, 

comes after the verb vîyayî, ‘loved.’ Normal constituent order with the same subject, 

object and verb was used in line 33, shown in (222). In (221) Nalbend is either 

highlighting the verb or the object. It would be most beneficial to discuss the topic of 

highlighting, or foregrounding, with poets of the Neo-classical style, as such would 

provide an emic view on the matter. 

(221) min vîya-yî tu jiber… 86 (AN5:36) 

1O love.PST-2SG 2D because 

‘I loved you because…’ 

84 Many even numbered lines in this poem do not end in a perfect rhyme but exhibit consonant feature 

rhyme, a subject discussed in § 5.3.3.1.5.1 

85 The meanings of zixt and xiştî may be metaphorical, perhaps also erotic, as this poem is of that theme. 

Both words are related to working with oxen. Zixt is the nail on the end of an oxgoad, for prodding. The 

translator had translated it as ‘pressure’ or ‘pounding heart.’ Xişt can be a staff or a sharp metal point, but 

may have other meanings as well. 

86 The rest of this line is missing from the original text.

150 

(222) ma min tu vîya-y-Ø-î bu milk u mal-î? (AN5:33) 

INTRG 1O 2D love:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG for land and belongings-OBL.M 


5.4.1.1.4 Object-Subject-Verb 

In a number of instances the object preceded the subject. In line 6 of Bila..Bila, 

‘OK..OK,’ Sindî put the object, rundka, ‘tears,’ before the subject, ez, 1D. 

(223) rundk-a ez lê di-werîn-im (BS3:6) 

tear-OBL.PL 1D for.him IPFV-shed.PRS-1SG 

‘I am shedding tears for him.’ 

In line 45 of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ shown in 

(224), Sindî positioned the object, suz u peyman, ‘promises and pacts,’ before the 

subject, em, 1OP. In this closing statement, Sindî is bringing to the forefront the Kurdish 

response for all that Mustafa Barzanî has done for his people. 

(224) suz u peyman em di-din te gel te (BS1:45) 

Promise and pact 1DP IPFV-give.PRS-3PL 2O with you 

da u ala we da 87 

with and flag your with 

‘We are giving you promises and pacts that we will be with you and your flag.’ 

In Bêla, ‘House,’ also by Sindî, the normal word order for line 11, shown in 

(225), is me banê bêla gêra. However, Sindî chose to put the object, banê bêlayê, ‘roof of 

the house,’ at the beginning of the sentence, before the subject me, 1OP. Bêla is a prose 

poem and, as mentioned, it only has rhyme in the final four lines. Hence, Sindî’s reason 

for using uncommon constituent order here is something other than rhyme. 

(225) ban-ê bêla-yê me gêra-Ø u .. u gêra-Ø (BS6:11) 

Roof-EZ.M house-SRM 1OP roll.PST-3SG and and roll.PST-3SG 

‘We rolled and rolled the roof of the house.’ 

The consultant who provided me with the normal word order for this line did not 

include the Specific Reference Marker (SRM)―yê on bêlayê. A thorough treatise on 

87 My consultant noted that this da is unnecessary but by no means awkward. Sindî used the second da, a 

postposition that is part of the circumposition for rhyming purposes.

151 

SRMs is outside the scope of this paper. But to prove that banê bêla is the object of the 

sentence, I inquired what would be the phrase if the sentence was in the future tense. The 

response was, Em banê bêlaî dê gerêîn. Here there is a masculine oblique marker, -î, on 

bêla, proving that the NP banê bêla is the object of the sentence. 

In line 8 of Bêla, Sindî put the object alayek ji renkê nêrgizan, ‘a flag of the color 

of narcissus,’ at the beginning of the clause, before the subject, min, 1O. The narcissus, 

nêrgiz, is one of the most beloved flowers in Kurdistan. The flag being of its color seems 

to be representative of the Kurdish homeland and/or the Kurdish people. Perhaps this is 

what Sindî is highlighting in this line. Whatever Sindî’s reason, the reader still 

understands what is being said, and we can assume that any pragmatic or poetic purposes 

are having their effects. 

(226) min dar ala-yek ren-î (BS6:7, 8) 

1O tree flag-INDF plant.PST-3SG 

‘I planted a flag-tree.’ 

ala-yek ji renk-ê nêrgiz-an min pêve-kir-Ø 

flag-INDF of color-EZ.M narcissus-OBL.PL 1O stick.on-do.PST-3SG 

‘I stuck (on it) a flag of the color of narcissuses.’ 

Nalbend used OSV order in two of his poems. In line 64 of Duhî Spêdê Liser 

Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop,’ shown in (227), the normal constituent 

order would read bela bû Xudê ew da bû, with the object, ew, 3D, after the subject, Xudê, 

‘God.’ However, in this instance, Nalbend put ew before Xudê. 

(227) bela bû-Ø ew Xud-ê da_bû-Ø 88 (AN1:64) 

trouble COP.PST-3SG 3D God-OBL.M create.PST-3SG 

‘Trouble was, God created her.’ 

Nalbend also uses OSV order in his poem, Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We Want A Girl.’ 

In (228), the object, kiçkek, ‘a girl,’ was positioned before the subject, me, 1OP. 

(228) kiçk-ek me di-vêt-Ø ji nû gehişt-î (AN5:1) 

girl-INDF 1OP IPFV-want.PRS-3SG from new maturity-OBL.M 

‘We want a girl that has become of age.’ 

88 The verb dabû here is short for peyda bû.

152 

5.4.1.1.5 Object-Verb-Subject 

In § 5.4.1.1.1 and § 5.4.1.1.2, I discussed instances of post-verbal subjects. Below 

is the only one instance I found in the corpus with an OVS constituent order. In line 9 of 

Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ Sindî put the subject at 

the end of the line, after the transitive complex verb ji berkir, ‘memorized.’ It seems that 

his motivation was to rhyme the noun jin, ‘woman,’ in his compound subject, me ciḧêl u 

pîr u jin, ‘we―young and old and women,’ with the noun cin at the end of the line 10, 

also shown in (229). It is possible that Sindî left out a conjunction between me and ciḧel; 

however, it seems more likely that ciḧel u pîr u jin are descriptive of me, as the 

translation below reads. 

(229) ayet-a Kursî 89 ji_berkir-Ø me ciḧêl u pîr (BS1:9, 10) 

verse-EZ.F Kursî memorize.PST-3SG 1OP young and old 

u jin 

and woman 

‘We―young, old, and women―memorized the Kursî verse.’ 

me du’a bu-Ø şev u ruj-an ji mezar u Înis u 

1OP prayer COP.PST-3SG night and day-OBL.PL from grave and Înis and 

cin 

evil.spirit 

‘We prayed (wished) night and day to grave and (prophet) Înis and evil spirit.’ 

5.4.1.1.6 Verb–Object imperative clauses without a declared subject 

In § 5.4.1.1.1 I discussed instances where the verb preceded the subject. Below are 

some instances of transitive imperative clauses where the verb precedes the object. 

Concerning line 38 of Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of 

Immortal Barzanî,’ shown in (230), the imperative bixwînin, ‘read,’ would normally 

come at the end of the phrase, after the object. However, Sindî positioned it after the 

initial imperative, wer, which is short for were, ‘come.’ What may appear to be the 

89 Ayeta Kursî is ayet, ‘verse,’ 255 of Surat al-Baqarah, ‘the Chapter of the Cow,’ in the Qur’an. People 

read it at night before they sleep, believing it will make the devil flee from them.

153 

subject, hevalan, is actually a vocative describing the plural undeclared subject, ‘you.’ It 

is rightfully marked as an oblique. By putting the object noun phrase, ayeta xuş hîmetê, 

‘verse of good effort,’ line final, he was able to rhyme hîmetê with the end of line 37, 

ruîmetê, ‘cheek,’ also shown. 

(230) wêne ya suz u dilêran xuîa=ye ser ruîmet-ê (BS1:37, 38) 

picture EZ.F promise and bravery sweat=COP.3SG on cheek-OBL.F 

‘The picture of promises and bravery is like sweat on the cheeks.’ 

wer(e) bi-xuîn-in ey heval-an ayet-a xuş hîmet-ê 

come.IMP IRR-read-IMP.PL O friend-OBL.PL verse-EZ.F good effort-OBL.F 

‘Come, read, O friends, with us the (poetic) verse of good effort.’ 

I considered whether the constituent order in line 38 (above) is normal for 

sentences with imperatives―that is, placing them before objects. Looking at other 

examples in the corpus, I did find one other instance where Sindî positioned an object 

after an imperative. In (231), the object dengê bilwîlan, ‘sound of flutes,’ comes after the 

verb, guh bidin, ‘listen.’ 

(231) guh bi-d-in deng-ê bilwîl-an ew çewa bu me (BS4:37) 

ear IRR-give-IMP.PL sound-EZ.M flutes-OBL.PL 3D how for 1OP 

di-bistir-in 

IPFV-vibrate.PRS-3PL 

‘Listen to the sound of the flutes, how they are singing for us.’ 

However, I did find more examples in the corpus to the contrary. In example 

(232), the object ‘ud u sentur, ‘oud and hammer dulcimer,’ is before the imperative 

bistirîne, ‘play,’ or literally, ‘sing.’ In example (233), the object xewinekê, ‘a dream,’ is 

before the imperative bide, ‘give.’ The object ruha min, ‘my soul,’ is before the 

imperative bibe, ‘take,’ in (234). And in (235), the object tazî ya Qazî, ‘funeral of Qazî,’ 

is positioned in its normal place, before the imperative, nekin, 90 ‘not do.’ Hence, 

examples of transitive clauses with imperatives from normal conversation would help us 

90 The words ji bîr before nekin is part of an idiom where a PP is part of an expression that utilizes a light 

verb. Together they function as the English verb ‘remember.’

154 

determine whether verb-initial utterances are as common as those with normal constituent 

order. 

(232) ‘ud u sentur bi-stirîn-e xuş awaz-a min (BS5:13) 

oud and hammer.dulcimer IRR-play-IMP.SG nice melody-EZ.F 1O 

ne-hat-Ø 

NEG-come.PST-3SG 

‘Play your oud and hammer dulcimer―my nice music did not come.’ 

(233) xewin-ek-ê bi-d-e min ez pê bi-jî-m (MT2: quote 91 ) 

dream-INDF-OBL.F IRR-give-IMP.SG 1O 1D by.it IRR-live.PRS-1SG 

‘Give me a dream to live with.’ 

(234) ruḧ-a min digel xu bi-b-e (DD:24) 

soul-EZ.F 1O with REFL IRR-take-IMP.SG 

‘Take my soul with you’ 

(235) tazî ya Qazî ji_bîr ne-k-in bo bi-k-in (BS4:23) 

funeral EZ.F Qazî remember NEG-do-IMP.PL for (him) IRR-do-IMP.PL 

şînî her sal 

mourning every year 

‘Don’t forget the funeral of Qazî; mourn for him every year.’ 

5.4.1.1.7 Position of non-verbal elements in complex verbs 

As discussed in Chapter 3, many complex verbs are composed of a non-verbal 

element followed by a light verb. Sindî, Nalbend and Cegerxwîn all took the liberty of 

positioning the non-verbal element after the light verb. In example (236), the light verb 

bikin comes before the nominal element şînî. Together they mean ‘mourn.’ Though şînî 

may look as if it is an object, as it ends with an î, my consultant informed me that the 

word şînî without the î would mean ˈblue,’ not ‘mourning.’ 92 Hence, the î on şînî is part 

of the word, which is part of a compound verb. In (236), the nominal element occurs after 

the light verb, an uncommon order. 

91 This example comes from a quote from a Swedish poet, Gunnar Ekelof, which Teyb included at the top 

of the page on which the poem Xewinek, ‘A Dream,’ begins. 

92 The word şîn (without an î on the end) with the light verb biben means ‘grow.’ This complex verb is used 

in line 11 of Sindî’s poem Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî.’

155 

(236) tazî ya Qazî jibîr ne-k-in bo bi-k-in (BS4:23) 




‘Don’t forget the funeral of Qazî, mourn for him every year.’ 

In (237), Nalbend put the light verb biken before the non-verbal element pisyar. The 

words together mean ‘ask.’ 

(237) bi-k-en pisyar li ḧal-ê me (AN1:59) 

IRR-do-IMP.PL question of condition-EZ.M 1OP 

‘Ask of our condition.’ 

In line 8 of Dînê Me Tête Zanîn, ‘Our Religion Is Becoming Known,’ Cegerxwîn 

put the nominal element mitala, ‘thought, thinking, reflection, pondering,’ after the light 

verb dikin, ‘is doing.’ Kurds in the Badinan region would normally say mitala dikin. The 

word is syntactically joined to the light verb and is not the verb’s object. In (238), the 

order dikin mitala is considered uncommon. While mitala looks like a noun with a plural 

ending, it actually comes from the Arabic word mutala’ah, which means ‘reading.’ 

(238) her dem di-k-in mitala, daxwaz ji wan re (CX3:8) 

all time IPFV-do.PRS-3PL ponder request from 3OP from 

havîn 

summer 

‘All the time pondering. We request only summer from them.’ 

5.4.1.1.8 Adjective before noun 

In line 31 of Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven,’ shown in (239), 

Nalbend put an adjective before a noun. A speaker of Northern Kurdish would normally 

say bejna rast, which utilizes the feminine ezafe, -a, to connect the modifier, rast, 

’straight,’ to the head noun, bejin, ‘stature.’ In this instance, normal order would not 

increase the number of syllables, as the i in bejin elides due to the addition of the ezafe 

particle. Regarding the phrase xuş zelam, my consultant said that, in this case, both xuş 

zelam and zelamê xuş (which is normal order that utilizes the masculine ezafe, -ê, to 

connect the modifier xuş) are commonly heard among speakers of Northern Kurdish.

156 

(239) rast bejin xuş zelam 93 (AN2:31) 

straight stature good men 

‘straight stature, good men’ 

5.4.1.1.9 Possessor before noun 

There was one instance in the corpus where a poet put a possessor before the head 

noun. By putting me, 1O, before dil, ’heart,’ shown in (240), Nalbend avoided use of the 

ezafe particle, which would have added an additional syllable to his line. Outside of this 

line of poetry, I have never observed anyone putting a possessive pronoun before a head 

noun. 

(240) me dil(-ê) beḧir-a tijî kêm=e (AN1:58) 

1OP heart(-EZ.M) ocean-EZ.F full puss=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘Our heart is an ocean full of puss (water of a wound).’ 

5.4.1.1.10 Number after noun 

As mentioned in § 4.4.2.5, numbers precede nouns in normal speech. In line 11 of 

Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven,’ the third line in example (241), 

Nalbend put the number hizar, ‘thousand,’ after the head noun, cins, ‘species,’ and a 

modifying noun, kulîlk, ‘flowers.’ Numbers, as modifiers, are typically part of the noun 

phrase; however, in this instance, the end of the noun phrase is marked by the plural 

oblique marker on kulîlk. Hence, hizar is technically outside the noun phrase, yet 

understood to be part of it, as it is also a modifier of cins. Nalbend likely put hizar at the 

end in order to rhyme it with the words ending the two preceding lines, bihar and 

darubar, also shown. In normal language a speaker would say, hizar cinsê kulîlka. 

(241) taze 94 =ye lê xoş bihar (AN2:9-11) 

beautiful=COP.PRS.3SG in.3OF nice spring 

‘A nice spring in it is beautiful, 

93 Zelam is translated as plural, ‘men,’ because it is part of an equative sentence that has an understood 

plural subject via a 3PL copula in line 29. 

94 Chyet (2003) would define taze as ‘fresh, green.’

157 

baẍ u rez u darubar 

garden and orchard and forest 

‘garden and orchard and forest,’ 

cins-ê kulîlk-a hizar 

species-EZ.M flower-OBL.PL thousand 

‘a thousand species of flowers.’ 

5.4.1.1.11 Intentional end-rhyme dissimilarity 

Questions formed with the interrogative words ka and kanê, ‘where,’ lack the 

copula. In all but one line in the corpus where these words are used, they appear before 

the subject. In examples (242) and (243), ka and kanê appear at the beginning of the line. 

(242) ka reḧim însanê bê esil u neseb 95 (AN4:24) 

where merciful person without family ties and ancestry 

‘Where is mercy, (you) the person without family ties (background) and ancestry.’ 

(243) kanê gundî? (BS6:17-19) 

where people 

‘Where are the people?’ 96 

kanê ban? 

where roof 

‘Where’s the roof?’ 

ka dil-ê min? 

where heart.EZ.M 1O 

‘Where’s my heart?’ 

In (244), ka occurs before the compound subject, mal u mefer, ‘home and belongings.’ In 

the first phrase in (245), kanê comes before the subject ew gul, ‘that flower.’ In the 

second phrase, ka comes before the subject şemala geş u hil, ‘bright and lit candle.’ 

(244) piştî mirn-ê ka bu wî mal u mefer 97 (AN4:21) 

after death-OBL.F where for 3OM home and opportunity 

‘After death, where is there for him a home and opportunity?’ 

95 Neseb is an Arabic word and, therefore, is not given an oblique ending. 

96 Or ‘Where’s the village?’ 

97 Chyet (2003) lists mefer as ‘opportunity, chance, possibility.’

158 

(245) erê ey dil kanê ew gul ka şemal-a geş (BS1:19) 

yes O heart where 3D flower where candle-EZ.F bright 

u hil 

and lit 

‘Yes, O heart, where’s that flower? Where’s the bright and lit (glowing) candle?’ 

In line 7 of Bila..Bila, ‘OK..OK,’ shown in (246), the word kanê is at the end of 

the line, after the subject dustê min. I propose that Sindî intentionally diverted from a 

normal word order in order to make the end of the line more dissimilar from the ending 

he would have had if he used normal word order. The rhyme scheme for this poem is A- 

A-X-A. Line 7 is the line that is to be free from rhyming with the other three lines in the 

quatrain. The line with normal word order would have been Xudê, kanê dustê min or 

perhaps Kanê, Xudê, dustê min. The placement of the vocative would not change the 

ending of min, which is very similar to the ending of the rhymed words: diburînim, 

diwerînim, and bînim, also shown. 

(246) sal bu sal-ê di-burîn-im (BS3:5-8) 

year by year-OBL.F IPFV-pass.away.PRS-1SG 

‘I’m passing away year by year.’ 

rundk-a ez lê di-werîn-im 

tear-OBL.PL 1D for.3OM IPFV-shed.PRS-1SG 


Xudê, dust-ê min kanê 

God friend-EZ.M 1O where 

‘God, where’s my lover?’ 

kengî ez dê wî bîn-im 

when 1D will 3OM see.PRS-1SG 

‘When will I see him?’ 

This discovery shows that in rhymed poems containing obligatory rhyme-free lines, 

dissimilarity with end of line rhyme is a technique in Northern Kurdish poetry. 

5.4.1.1.12 Use of a prepositional phrase in lieu of a possessive ezafe construction 

Nalbend, in separate poems, took the liberty to use a prepositional phrase in lieu 

of a possessive ezafe construction. For example, the normal way to express “my flesh and 

bone” would be by means of the ezafe construction: -EZ + possessive pronoun, that is, leş

159 

u hestîê min, ‘body and bone’-EZ-M 1O. However, in the first line in (247), Nalbend 

expressed the possessive pronoun min in a prepositional phrase using the preposition li. 

In the second line in (248), li min was also used in lieu of a possessive ezafe construction, 

allowing Nalbend to put the subject, cerg u dil, ‘liver and heart,’ at the end the line. In 

both of these instances, use of the prepositional phrase versus a possessive ezafe 

construction aided Nalbend in rhyming these lines with end-rhymes in other lines of the 

poem, also shown in the examples below. 

(247) li min ḧelîa-n leş u hestî (AN1:45-47) 

in 1O melt.PST-3PL flesh and bone 

‘My flesh and bone melted. 

me gut-Ø mar=e ez-ê geztî 

1OP say.PST.3SG snake=COP.PRS.3SG 1D-EZ.M bite-PST.PTCP 

‘We thought it’s a snake that has bitten me.’ 

bi remz-a bazin-êt dest-î 

by.means.of signal-EZ.F bracelet-EZ.PL hand-OBL.M 

‘by means of the signal of the hand bracelets 98 ’ 

(248) zend u til u bask u mil (AN2:53-55) 


‘forearm and finger and arm and shoulder’ 

sutî li min cerg u dil 

burn.PST.PTCP in 1O liver and heart 

‘The liver and heart in me are burnt.’ 

Alternate translation: ‘My liver and heart are burnt.’ 

av rîl wan şêr=e sil 

water rîl those lion=COP.PRS.3SG angry 

‘water rîl 99 them, the lion is angry’ 

5.4.1.1.13 Word displacements 

In example (249), the preposition combination ji ber, ‘because,’ is out of place, 

distant from the object of the prepositional phrase, ’Işqa te, ‘your love.’ Normal word 

98 The bracelets signifying that the woman is married. Among Kurds they are one of the most important 

items given to a woman upon marriage.’ 

99 Meaning unknown.

160 

order would be jiber ‘Işqa te ezim buhijtî. My consultant did not take issue with this 

displacement and said that it “sounds more poetic.” The placement of ji ber had no effect 

on changing the syllable count for the line. 

(249) ’Işqa te ezim ji_ber buhijtî (AN5:28) 

love-EZ.F you 1D=COP.PRS.1SG because.of melt.PST.PTCP 

‘Because of your love, I am the one who is melted.’ 

In example (250), the word lewa, which is often translated as ‘that is why’ or 

‘thus,’ is not in its normal place at the beginning of the clause, which begins with şewiq, 

‘light.’ Looking at the end of line 30, also shown, it seems clear that Sindî put lewa at the 

end of 29 to rhyme with xewa, ‘dreaming.’ My consultant said that while lewa is 

abnormal at the end of this clause, it is still acceptable. 

(250) ew çira-yên mililet=în 100 -e şewiq veda-n bu me (BS4:29, 30) 

3dp light-EZ.PL people=COP.3PL-SRM light give.PST-3PL for us 

lewa 

that.is.why 

‘They are the lights of the people; that is why they gave off light for us.’ 

bilbil-ên şerm=in di-xuîn-in, Kurdu, 

nightingale-EZ.PL disgraced=COP.PRS.3SG IMPV-sing.PRS-3SG Kurd 

dê rab-e ji xewa 

will awake-IMP.SG from dreaming 

‘The disgraced of the nightingales are singing: Hey Kurd, wake up from dreaming!’ 

5.4.1.2 Ellipsis 

Ellipsis has been the subject of many books and the term is often defined so as to 

distinguish it from other syntactic occurrences resulting from pragmatic decisions, such 

as sluicing and gapping. 101 In the discussion that follows, I will use the term ellipsis to 

100 The original text has this copular clitic as -în, which does not agree with the subject ew, the first person, 

plural direct case pronoun. It may be a typographical error or some unknown meaning. 

101 An in-depth analysis of various types of omissions is beyond the scope of this paper. For a thorough 

discussion on the subject, I refer the reader to Anne Lobeck’s book, Ellipsis: functional heads, licensing, & 

identification, 1995.

161 

generally refer to the omission of a particular word or phrase that is understood by the 

hearer (Adams 1997:121). 

5.4.1.2.1 Ellipsis of anaphoric subject pronoun 

In certain contexts, inclusion of subject pronouns is optional in Northern Kurdish. 

The hearer can understand an unmentioned referent by means of verb endings, which 

refer to one of the referents involved in the state of affairs. We still call such instances 

ellipsis, because leaving out the subject pronoun is context dependent. 

In line 5 of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ the 

shown in (251) below, Sindî did not include the subject pronoun tu, ‘you,’ which would 

normally come just before ruhinîya, ‘light.’ The subject is indicated by the 2SG copula, yî, 

at the end of the line. Additionally, the entity expressed by the subject is known from the 

context, having just been reiterated by the personal pronoun tu, ’you,’ at the beginning of 

line 4 and in the second clause of the same line. The anaphor tu refers to Mustafa 

Barzanî, who is mentioned only in the title, but not in the body, of the poem. 

(251) tu bi-ke rehm-ê ji mirîd-an kengî (BS1:4) 

2D IRR-do.IMP.SG compassion-OBL.F from disciples-OBL.PL when 

dê tu hêye ve 

will 2D come.PRS.2SG again 

‘Be compassionate to (your) disciples; when will you be back?’ 

baz-ê baz-an şah-ê Kurd-an ruhinî-ya çav-ê (BS1:5) 

falcon-EZ.M falcon-OBL.PL king-EZ.M Kurd-OBL.PL light-EZ.F eye-EZ.M 

me=yî 

1OP=COP.PRS.2SG 

‘Falcon of falcons, king of Kurds―you are the light of our eyes.’ 

Example (252) from Sindî’s Bila..Bila, ‘OK..OK,’ shows both exclusion and 

inclusion of subject pronouns. In line 5, the pronoun ez, 1D, was omitted. However, in the 

following line, ez was included. 

(252) sal bu sal-ê di-burîn-im (BS3:5, 6) 


‘I’m passing away year by year.’

162 


tears-OBL.PL 1D for.3OM IPFV-shed.PRS-1SG 


Inclusion or exclusion of a subject personal pronoun can help the poet reach a desired 

line length, as seems to be the case in lines 5 and 6 above. However, it is possible that 

inclusion of a subject pronoun in some instances has some pragmatic purpose, perhaps 

that of emphasis. It seems likely, though, that Sindî’s motivation for using ez in line 6 

was to gain an extra syllable for the line. Concerning line 5, the exclusion of the subject 

pronoun is natural and expected in the given context. 

5.4.1.2.2 Ellipsis of anaphoric object pronoun 

In ergative-absolutive clauses, it is the object that is represented in the verb’s 

person-number ending, whatever the tense. 102 When an object is referenced by a pronoun, 

and the context allows, it may be left unmentioned. For example, a person might say, min 

dît, ‘I saw,’ in reply to the question, Te biraê min dît?, ‘Did you see my brother?’ The 

zero (Ø) ending on the stem dît signifies third person, singular agreement with the 

unmentioned object, which refers to the bira, ‘brother.’ If the speaker wanted to include 

the object pronoun, ew, ‘him,’ in the reply, he or she would have said, min ew dît, ‘I saw 

him.’ 

However, usage of the object pronoun in this instance may seem emphatic. More 

research is needed to see if poets include object pronouns when there is opportunity for 

non-utterance, as I found no such situations in the corpus. Additionally, possessing an 

etic perspective on the language, such discourse level research would require much time 

with native speakers. From the data available, we can surmise that when the context 

allows, there does seem to be a tendency in the language to leave object pronouns in 

ergative-absolutive clauses unspoken, when permitted by the context. Some of these 

instances are shown in examples (253) through (255). The unmentioned object pronouns 

102 Some irregular verbs always exhibit ergative agreement.

163 

are in parentheses. For the contexts of each line, see the translations of the poems in 

Appendix B. 

(253) gut-in belê me (ew) dît-Ø (BS6:26) 

say.PST-3PL yes we (3D) see.PST-3SG 

‘They said, Yes, we saw it.’ 

(254) Xudê (ew) kir-Ø bû bela bû me (AN1:65) 

God (3D) make.PST for problem for us 

‘God made her a problem for us.’ 

(255) taze wesa dil (ew) vîa-Ø (AN2:35) 

beautiful like.that heart (3DP) want.PST-3SG 

‘The heart wanted them beautiful like that.’ 

Sindî’s Bila..Bila, ‘OK..OK,’ provides some interesting examples of variation in 

pronoun usage. And since we are dealing with issues of participant reference, I have 

included a large portion of the poem, shown in (256). The lines in focus in this discussion 

are 4, 8 and 10. 

Line 4 is a response to the previous line, ‘He’s my friend by love.’ The speaker is 

telling God to protect her dust, ‘friend,’ which could also be translated as ‘lover,’ as it is 

in line 7. In line 4, the object wî, 3OM, is unexpressed. (The missing pronoun is within the 

parentheses.) The verb bihêlit is transitive and the translator knew it was necessary in 

English to include the object personal pronoun, the anaphor ‘him,’ in the translation. As 

the syllable count for the lines in this poem is seven, Sindî did not need to express the 

pronoun wî, 3OM, but depended on the rules of participant reference in Northern Kurdish 

that allows for the exclusion of personal object pronouns in certain contextual situations. 

Also note that in this instance, the missing 3OM pronoun is not represented in this verb 

bihêlit, which agrees with the subject. Hence, this is a case where pronoun ellipsis 

depends entirely on the rules of participant reference, receiving no help from the personnumber 

ending on the verb. 

(256) bila .. bila çi bêj-it (BS3:1-11) 

ok ok what say.PRS-3SG 

‘Ok .. ok, what he says.’

164 

bila dil-ê min bi-hêl-it 

ok heart-EZ.M 1O IRR-leave.PRS.IMP-3SG 

‘Ok, my heart, let (him) leave.’ 

dust-ê min=e bi evîn-î 

friend-EZ.M 1O=COP.PRS.3SG with love-OBL.M 

‘He’s my friend by love.’ 

Xudê, (wî) bu min bi-hêl-it line 4 

God (3OM) for 1O IRR-protect.IMP-3SG 

‘God, protect him for me.’ 

sal bu sal-ê di-burîn-im 


‘I’m passing away year by year.’ 


tear-OBL.PL I for.3OM IPFV-shed.PRS-1SG 

‘I’m shedding tears for him.’ 

Xudê, dust-ê min kanê 

God lover-EZ.M 1O where 

‘God, where’s my lover?’ 

kengî ez dê wî bîn-im line 8 

when 1D will 3OM see.PRS-1SG 

‘When will I see him?’ 

dust-ê min .. boçî sil=e 

lover-EZ.M 1O why mad=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘My lover―Why is he mad (at me)?’ 

dil-ê min ji_ber wî kul=e line 10 

heart-EZ.M 1O because.of 3OM distressed=COP.3SG 

‘My heart is distressed because of him.’ 

bêj-n-ê ez-a razî me 

tell.PRS-IMP.PL-3OM 1D-EZ.F accepting COP.PRS.1SG 

‘Tell him I’m accepting (what he says).’ 

In line 8, Sindî utilized the extra syllable of the object personal pronoun wî to 

reach seven syllables. According to my consultant, wî, 3OM, could have been excluded. A 

hearer would still understand that the one whom the woman wants to see is dustê min, 

‘my lover,’ in the previous line. 

Lastly, my consultant informed me that in line 10, it is necessary to retain the 

personal pronoun wî, 3OM, which is the object in the prepositional phrase, ji ber wî,

165 

‘because of him.’ If the pronoun was excluded, the reader would have the understanding 

of, ‘My heart is distressed because he is angry at me’ versus ‘My heart is distressed 

because of him.’ As it stands, wî refers to dustê min, ‘my friend.’ Without the anaphor wî, 

the default reference would be the anger of the dust, ‘friend.’ 

Below is another context that does not allow for ellipsis of an object pronoun. At 

the end of Nalbend’s Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We Want A Girl,’ the final four lines are spoken 

by one person to Ehmed. In line 33, the woman states Ma min tu vîyayî, ‘Did I love 

you…?’ Here the object pronoun tu, 2D, is included. She repeats the same words in line 

36, albeit in a different order. One would think that the context at this point would allow 

for object pronoun ellipsis. However, according to my consultant, a person can never say 

only min vîyayî and have it mean ‘I loved you.’ The 2D pronoun tu, ‘you,’ must also be 

used. Perhaps some verbs allow for ellipsis while others do not. This is an area for further 

research. 

(257) Ma min tu vîya-yî bu milik u mal-î (AN5:33-36) 

QP 1O 2D love.PST-2SG for land and home-OBL.M 


Ez bu-m=e xidam bu….. 

1D become.PST-1SG=DIR slave for 

‘I became a slave for…’ 103 

Eḧmed tu bi-zan-e ey riḧ-a min 

Ehmed you IRR-know.IMP.SG O soul-EZ.F me 

‘Ehmed, know, O soul of mine.’ 

Min vîya-yî tu jiber… 

1O love.PST-2SG 2D because 

‘I loved you because…’ 

5.4.1.2.3 Ellipsis of anaphoric pronoun in a prepositional phrase 

Speakers of Northern Kurdish sometimes have an option to leave out an anaphoric 

pronoun in a prepositional phrase―again, depending on the context of conversation. 

Recall example (236), repeated below in (258). In the second phrase of the line, the 3SG 

103 Two lines at the end of this poem are missing the final words in the original text.

166 

pronoun wî, referring to Qazî, a figure in Kurdish history, is missing after the preposition 

bo, ‘for.’ It could have been included; however, inclusion would have given Sindî too 

many syllables for the line. 

(258) tazî ya Qazî jibîr_ne-k-in bo (wî) bi-k-in (BS4:23) 

funeral EZ.F Qazî forget_NEG-do.PRS-3PL for (him) IRR-do.PRS-3PL 




In Bêhna Gulê, ‘The Smell of the Rose,’ a prose poem, Hizirvan left out the 3OM 

pronoun wî, ‘him,’ (or some other noun or noun phrase) after the prepositions li ser, 

meaning ‘on.’ As well, another 3OM object pronoun, ‘him,’ a required argument of the 

verb berzekirin, ‘hid,’ is not expressed. Since prose poetry is closer to natural language, 

this example likely shows how the ellipsis of pronouns―from both prepositional phrases 

and object phrases―is a natural occurrence in the language. While English requires both 

pronouns, they need not be expressed in certain contexts in Northern Kurdish. 

(259) agr-ek boş li ser helkir-in, berzekir-in, 104 (H:6) 

fire-INDF large on (him) set.PST-3PL hide.PST-3PL (him) 

‘And (they) ignited a massive fire on him (his body), and hid him.’ 

With this example above, we might conclude that it is the inclusion of anaphoric 

pronouns (in certain contexts) that is a tool a poet can use for reaching a desired syllable 

count in a poem, as was the case with line 8 of (256) in the previous section. 

This study did not investigate identifying other places in the corpus where 

anaphoric object personal pronouns could have been excluded. Inclusion of an anaphor 

may often have some pragmatic purpose. Determining the various contexts for inclusion 

and exclusion was beyond the scope of this paper. Table 23 provides some additional 

104 From my direct correspondence with Denise Bailey (2012), I learned that for past tense, transitive 

sentences, there are some situations where agreement with the object does not always apply when the 

subject of the clause is a third person plural and left unexpressed. The plural -in ending is also commonly 

used when the subject is impersonal, as it is in this entire poem.

167 

instances ellipsis of object pronouns in prepositional phrases. The missing pronouns are 

in parentheses. 

Poem Line # Pronoun Text 

Table 23. Pronoun ellipsis. 

BS4 25 wî Ristkên şenqê bu (wî) vedan can fîdayên rastî yê 

Necklets of throats were ready for him to sacrifice his soul for 

truth. 

BS4 45 wî Nabitin biçim nik Xanî bu (wî) vekim dilê bi xwîn 

I can’t go near Xanî and open for him my heart with blood 

(sadness). 

BS7 11 wî Kewek bu lê neçu ravê ji (wî) kewgiran nekew girbu 

5.4.1.2.4 Ellipsis of copula 

He was a partridge but he did not go hunting because for the 

hunters this partridge is not a hunter. 

Ellipsis of the third person, singular, present tense copula is quite common in 

spoken language. Such is the case in the following examples from Cegerxwîn’s Silav Li 

Sifra Hazire, ‘Salute the Feast Is Ready.’ Written Northern Kurdish would typically 

include the 3SG copula, e, on the end of the words bihuşt, ‘heaven,’ in (260), and 

namîdar, ‘famous,’ in (261). However, we have already seen how performance is an 

important consideration for the poet when writing poetry. In this instance, leaving off the 

copula reflects spoken language, and aids the poet in reaching his desired syllable count. 

(260) mertal di dest(-êt) wan de bihuşt(=e) (CX2:7) 

shield in hand(-EZ.PL) 3OP in heaven(=COP.PRS.3SG) 

‘The shield in their hands (is) heaven.’ 

(261) lewra Cegerxwîn namîdar(=e) (CX2:30) 

Thus Cegerxwîn famous (=COP.PRS.3SG) 

‘Thus Cegerxwîn is famous.’ 

In other lines from the same poem, including the title, the copula is included. In 

these examples the copula appears in its normal position, at the end of each line.

168 

(262) gurz-ê di dest wan agir=e (CX2:8) 

club-EZ.M in hand 3OP fire=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘The club in their hand is fire.’ 

(263) silav li sifra hazir=e (CX2:28-29) 

salute feast ready=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘Salute, the feast (dining-table) is ready.’ 

seîda-yê rast u ron-î ye 

teacher-EZ.M truth and light-OBL.M COP.PRS.3SG 

‘He is the teacher of truth and light,’ 

(264) ên 105 ker di-bêj-in kafir=e (CX2:32) 

EZ.PL donkey IRR-say.PRS-3PL infidel=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘The ignorant ones say he’s a blasphemer (infidel).’ 

5.4.1.2.5 Ellipsis of ezafe conjunctive particle 

In Silav Li Sifra Hazire, ‘Salute the Feast Is Ready,’ Cegerxwîn took liberty to 

omit an ezafe conjunctive particle on the word dest in two lines. As far as I am aware, this 

is not acceptable in Northern Kurdish spoken in Iraq. Cegerxwîn, however, was from 

southern Turkey and Syria. Many educated people in Northern Iraq have stated that 

Cegerxwîn’s language is quite different from the speech of the Badinan area, so perhaps 

his dialect of Northern Kurdish allows this. 

(265) mertal di dest(-êt) wan de bihuşt(=e) (CX2:7, 8) 

shield in hand(-EZ.PL) 3OP in heaven(=COP.PRS.3SG) 

‘The shield in their hands (is) heaven.’ 

gurz-ê di dest(-êt) wan agir=e 

club-EZ.M in hand(-EZ.PL) 3OP fire=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘The club in their hands is fire.’ 

However, Cegerxwîn was not the only poet to take this liberty. In several other 

instances, Sindî omitted an ezafe particle. It seems that the omissions were made in order 

to reach a desired syllable count. In (266), the feminine ezafe, -a, which would have 

connected the adjective reş, ‘black,’ to the noun şev, ‘night,’ is missing. In (267), the 

noun cih, ‘place,’ has no ezafe conjunctive particle for connecting to kew, ‘partridge.’ 

105 In this example the ezafe conjunctive particle is used as a relativizer. In order to function as an NP, ezafe 

requires either a modifier (adjective phrase) or a relative clause.

169 

And in (268), there is no ezafe on dest, ‘hand,’ to connect to the word nezana, ‘ignorant 

ones.’ 

(266) çi tav-ek bu gelo ya geş li çax-ê tarî u (BS7:17) 

what morn-INDF for people EZ.F bright in time-EZ.M dark and 

şev(-a) reş 

night(-EZ.M) black 

‘What a bright sunrise for the people, radiance in the dark time and black night!’ 

(267) gelo lewra di-suj-it dil ku cih(-ê) kew (BS7:24) 

People that’s.why IRR-burn.PRS-3SG heart because place(-EZ.M) partridge 

evro vala=ye 

today vacant=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘People! That’s why the heart is burning, because the place of the partridge today is 

vacant.’ 

(268) ketî-m=e dest(-êt) nezan-a (BS2:14) 

I fall.PST-1SG=DIR hand(-EZ.PL) ignorant.one-OBL.PL 

‘I fell into the hands of ignorant ones (idiots).’ 

This last example above, (268), is from Sindî’s Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, ‘A 

Walk Through Kurdistan.’ In a similar line from the same poem, Sindî did use an ezafe 

on the word dest, ‘hand.’ 

(269) ketîm=e dest-ê har-a (BS2:56) 

I fell=DIR hand-EZ.M wild.person-OBL.PL 

I fell into the hands of wild people (enemies). 

Two other examples where an ezafe was omitted are provided below. In (270), 

Sindî left off the feminine ezafe, -ya, on gemî, ‘boat,’ probably to meet a desired number 

of syllables for the line. In (271) the ezafe -ê is missing on dem, ‘time.’ 

(270) bi Kurmancî gemî(-ya) dar-ê li derîa-yê ziman-ê (BS7:19) 

with Kurmanji boat(-EZ.F) wood-EZ.M in sea-EZ.M language-EZ.M 

xweş 

nice 

‘With Kurmanji, a wooden boat in the sea of nice language.’ 

(271) hêjîr-a li dem(-ê) nubar-ê (BS2:2) 

fig-EZ.F in time(-EZ.M) spring-OBL.F 

‘A fig in the time of spring.’

170 

There were other instances where it looked as if an ezafe conjunctive particle was 

omitted, but after speaking with my consultant, I learned that these instances, which I 

discuss below, either call for no ezafe or an ezafe is optional. I have included these 

examples so that the reader will be aware that the compounding of words occurs in the 

language. 

In (272) mêr xaz, ‘brave man,’ is correct without use of an ezafe particle. Chyet 

(2003) lists mêrxas as meaning ‘hero, brave person.’ Hence, this is an example of a 

compound word, two words that have become lexically one. In the same example, an 

ezafe is considered optional in the second noun phrase, mêr çaka, ‘man of goodness.’ In 

(273) the noun phrase cilil reş, ‘black clothing,’ is “like one word” according to my 

consultant. No ezafe should be used. In (274), I would have expected to see an ezafe on 

agrek, ‘a fire,’ to join with it the adjective boş, ‘large.’ However, after perusing other 

poems by Hizirvan, I noticed that he usually does not use an ezafe conjunctive particle on 

nouns that have an indefinite article suffix, whether masculine or feminine. While I 

personally have not observed this dropping of an ezafe in the spoken language of 

Northern Iraq, it seems that it is an aspect of at least one of its subdialects. 

(272) nav mêr xaz u mêr(-ê) çak-a (BS2:44) 

toward man brave and men(-EZ.M) goodness-OBL.PL 

‘toward brave men and men of goodness’ 

(273) şagird-ên te heqe çû-Ø-ban bi mewkin ew (BS7:6) 

disciple-EZ.PL 2O all go.PST-3SG-SBJV by.means.of procession 3D 

cilil reş b-in 

clothing black COP.PRS-3PL 

‘It would have been right for your disciples to go in procession dressed in black 

clothing.’

171 

(274) agr-ek boş li ser helkir-in, berzekir-in, 106 (H:6) 

fire-INDF large on (3OM) set.PST-3PL (3OM) hide.PST-3PL 

‘And (they) ignited a massive fire on him (his body), and hid him.’ 

5.4.1.2.6 Ellipsis of oblique marker 

As mentioned in § 4.4.2.2, obliques are always marked in the Northern Kurdish of 

northern Iraq. In the Northern Kurdish of Turkey, however, masculine nouns in the 

oblique case are left unmarked, as is evident in the following example from Cegerxwîn, 

who was from Turkey and Syria. In line 10 of Silav Li Sifra Hazire, ‘Salute the Feast Is 

Ready,’ shown in (275), there is no oblique marker on Xidir. In the Northern Kurdish of 

Iraq, Xidir would have the masculine oblique suffix, -î. 

(275) şêx-ê ko tac u teylesan (CX2:9-10) 

sheikh-EZ.M that crown and turban 

‘The sheikh with crown and turban, ‘ 

weregirt-y-Ø-e reng-ê Xidir. 

take:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG color-EZ.M Khidir 

‘has taken the shape of Green Knight.’ 107 

Nalbend typically expresses masculine oblique markers, as can be seen in first 

line of Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop,’ which is also the 

title of the poem. The masculine noun ban, ‘rooftop,’ is appropriately marked with the 

masculine oblique marker, -î, as it is the final noun in a prepositional phrase. As well, the 

feminine noun spêde, ‘morning,’ at the end of an adverbial clause, has the expected 

feminine oblique marker, -ê. The final e on the end of spêde elides due to the presence of 

the stronger oblique marking vowel. 

106 From my direct correspondence with Denise Bailey, I learned that for past tense, transitive sentences, 

there are some situations where agreement with the object does not always apply, such as when the subject 

of the clause is third person plural and unexpressed. The plural -in ending is also commonly used when the 

subject is impersonal, as it is in this entire poem. 

107 

According to the translator, the Islamic figure Xidir is close to the Western figure called the Green 

Knight (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Green_Knight).

172 

(276) duhî spêd-ê li_ser ban-î (AN1:1) 

yesterday morning-OBL.F on rooftop-OBL.M 

‘Yesterday morning on the rooftop’ 

In line 24 of Ey Ze’îmê Bê Nivêjê Bê Werar, ‘O Leader Without Prayer and Use,’ 

Nalbend took liberty to leave off the masculine oblique marker, -î, on the word neseb, 

‘ancestry,’ the final noun in a prepositional phrase. The appropriate oblique marker for 

grammatical correctness is in parentheses. By leaving off the oblique marker, Nalbend 

was able to rhyme neseb with the fourth line of the rest of the poem’s quatrains (not 

shown). As well, the syllable count remains at 12 for the line, the line length for the 

poem. 

(277) ka reḧim însan-ê bê esil u neseb(-î) (AN4:24) 

where merciful person-EZ.M without family ties and ancestry 

‘Where is mercy, (you) the person without family ties (background) and ancestry.’ 

In Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, ‘A Walk Through Kurdistan,’ Sindî elected to 

omit oblique markers on the feminine nouns alek, ‘corner,’ shown in (278), and 

Kurdistan, shown in (279). Leaving off the oblique marker on alek allowed Sindî to 

rhyme it with cwanek, ‘a pretty woman,’ at the end of line 3, also shown. While rhyme 

seems to be the primary motivator, the line is also left at 7 syllables, the length it needed 

to be for the poem. In (279), the motivation for leaving off the oblique is syllable count, 

as the line would have had eight syllables if the oblique marker was used on Kurdistan. 

(278) min dît li wêrê cwan-ek (BS2:3, 4) 

1O see.PST(-3SG) LOC there pretty.woman-INDF 

‘I saw a pretty lady there.’ 

awir di-da-Ø ji alek(-ê) 

look IPFV-give.PST-3SG from corner(-OBL.F) 

‘She was winking from the corner.’ 

(279) bu Kurdistan(-ê) mirîd=im (BS2:24) 

for Kurdistan(-OBL.F) disciple=COP.PRS.1SG 

‘I’m a disciple of Kurdistan.’ 

Lines 9 and 10 from Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal 

Barzanî,’ shown in example (280), are also missing oblique markers. In line 9, me―ciḧel 

u pîr u jin, 1OP ‘youth and old one and woman,’ is the subject of a past tense transitive

173 

sentence. Hence, the final noun of the noun phrase should be marked with an oblique 

marker, which in this instance is jin, ‘woman.’ However, the actual subject in this line 

may be the pronoun me, which is an oblique case pronoun. The words ciḧel u pîr u jin 

may simply be a description of me. 

In line 10, however, mezar u Înis u cin, ‘grave and (prophet) Înis and evil spirit’ 

are the nouns in a prepositional phrase. As discussed, the final noun in a prepositional 

phrase, in this instance cin, ‘evil spirit,’ should be marked as oblique. In order to rhyme 

jin, a feminine noun, with cin, a masculine noun, the oblique marker -î was dropped. Use 

of the oblique marker would have not just ruined the rhyme; it would have also extended 

the line past the syllable count for the lines of the poem. 

(280) ayet-a Kursî ji_berkir-Ø me ciḧêl u pîr (BS1:9, 10) 


u jin 

and woman 


me du’a bu-Ø şev u ruj-an ji mezar u Înis 

1OP prayer COP.PST-3SG night and day-OBL.PL from grave and Înis 

u cin 

and evil.spirit 


In (281), Nalbend left off the oblique marker on the word dil, ‘heart,’ the subject 

of an irregular verb, ‘want,’ which always demands the subject be in the oblique case. It 

seems likely that his motivation was to reduce the syllable count. 

(281) taze wesa dil(-î) vîa-Ø (AN2:35) 

beautiful like.that heart(-OBL.M) (them) want.PST.3SG 

‘The heart wanted them beautiful like that.’ 

5.4.1.2.7 Ellipsis of preposition 

I only identified one ellipsis of a preposition. In line 43 of Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, 

‘Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop,’ shown in (282), the reader understands the phrase 

although the unspoken preposition bu, ‘for,’ has been omitted. According to my

174 

consultant, no one would utter this sentence without the preposition. Again, Nalbend’s 

motivation was likely to reduce the syllable count for the line. 

(282) çi derman=e (bu) leşê ba-wî 108 (AN1:43) 

what medicine=COP.PRS.3SG (for) body wind-OBL.M 

‘What medicine is there for the winded body?’ 

5.4.1.2.8 Ellipsis of irrealis aspect prefix, bi- 

In one instance, shown in (283), the irrealis aspect prefix, bi-, was missing from 

the command, fikirê, ‘think.’ This was confirmed with a second consultant, who said 

“that this is the only case in Kurdish where [this] verb is used at the beginning [of a 

sentence].” He also agreed that “it seems awkward not to have the bi- [prefix].” It seems 

likely that Nalbend left off the prefix in order to meet his syllable count for the line. 

(283) Dayîk-a me çû-Ø. Bab-ê me çû-Ø; (AN3:33) 

mother-EZ.F 1OP go.PST-3SG father-EZ.M 1OP go.PST-3SG 

(bi-)fikir-ê 109 ku bapîr kîve çû-Ø? 

(IRR-)think-IMP.SG that grandfather where go.PST-3SG 

‘Our mother left. Our father left. Think about it―Where did our grandfather go?’ 

5.4.1.3 Free variation 

This section on free variation covers situations where a poet has freedom to 

include or exclude a word or put certain words or phrases in less common places. In these 

examples, inclusion or exclusion generally does not change the meaning of the sentence. 

I say generally because pragmatic nuances in the language would need further study to 

make wide assertions on the examples covered here. But, because we are dealing with 

written texts, that is, communication that lacks performance and intonation, it makes 

sense to cover these areas. 

108 In this instance of a masculine oblique marker being added to a noun, I believe the w is a glide insertion 

for the sake of pronunciation. In the resources available to me, this word for ‘wind’ is always spelled ba. 

Other poets in the corpus write ba with an oblique marker as baî. 

109 The -ê sufix is unusual, as the singular imperative suffix is -e. This may simply be a typographical error 

in the original text, as my consultant could not explain the appearance of this suffix.

175 

5.4.1.3.1 Use of alternate word forms for reaching syllable count 

In § 3.5, I shared how Badirxan Sindî informed me that Neo-classical poets will 

sometimes use forms of words from different subdialects of the Kurdish region. He said 

that a poet can draw upon such variants in the language in order to find the right word to 

fit a desired syllable length or rhyme scheme. In this section I look at situations where, 

potentially, a variant form was used to reach a desired syllable count. 

In line 30 of Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da, ‘A Walk Through Kurdistan,’ shown in 

(284), Sindî used the word wek as meaning ‘like’ or ‘as.’ In line 11 of Nehat, ‘It Did Not 

Come,’ shown in (285), he used wekî. Both poems required a specific syllable count in 

each line. Hence, it is possible that in (285) Sindî utilized a word that was not the 

common variant in spoken language of his area. Şirin’s dictionary (2006), which is 

largely composed of Northern Kurdish from Zaxo, the city of Sindî’s upbringing, lists 

wek as meaning ‘like’ or ‘as.’ The word wekî is listed meaning ‘if’ or ‘when.’ Comparing 

this to Chyet’s dictionary (2003), wek is also listed as meaning ‘as, like, similar to.’ 

Further down his definition, he lists wekî as an alternative, the resources for this 

information being Kurdish-Russian and Kurdish-French dictionaries. With more research, 

one might find that the speakers of Northern Kurdish who worked on the Russian and 

French dictionaries were from other areas of Northern Iraq, not Zaxo. Unlike Sindî, 

Nalbend predominantly used wekî for ‘like, as,’ (eight times) and only used wek twice. 

(284) wek dara tuy-ê werîa-m (BS2:30) 

like tree mulberry-OBL.F fall.PST-1SG 

‘I fell down like the mulberry tree.’ 

(285) kî wekî me mubitalî 110 =e kes li rêz-a min (BS5:11) 

who like 1OP afflicted=COP.PRS.3SG person in way-EZ.F 1O 

ne-hat-Ø 

NEG-come.PST-3SG 

‘Who is afflicted like us?―no one followed my way.’ 

110 An Arabic word for a problem a person cannot get rid of, such as an affliction or a burden.

176 

The word for ‘but’ varies among speakers of Northern Kurdish. According to 

Chyet (2003:352), lê and lêbelê can both mean ‘but.’ The corpus contains examples of 

both. There were also two examples of belê being used for ‘but,’ as shown in (286) and 

(287). 

(286) belê bê qeyd=e bê lûm=e (AN1:66) 

but without fetters=COP.PRS.3SG without lûm 111 =COP.PRS.3SG 

‘But it is an unnecessary complaint.’ 

(287) xwelî ya wî jî bin ax-kir-in (H:7, 8) 

ashes EZ.F 3OM also below earth-do.PST-3PL 

‘They also buried his ashes in the earth.’ 

belê jinav xelkî ne-çu-Ø 

but among people NEG-go.PST-3SG 

‘but he did not go from among the people.’ 

However, belê can also mean ‘yes,’ as shown in (291). The context provides the correct 

interpretation. 

(288) gut-in belê .. me dît-Ø (BS6:26) 

say.PST-3PL yes 1OP (3OF) see.PST-3SG 

‘They said, Yes, we saw it.’ 

What I found particularly puzzling were usages of lê belê (with the lê separated 

from belê in the original text) that had originally been translated as ‘yes.’ These examples 

are shown in (289) and (290). According to Chyet (2003:352), ‘yes’ is not an optional 

definition for lêbelê. Furthermore, he does not list belê as meaning ‘but.’ It only means 

‘yes’ (2003:33). However, belê is commonly used in Northern Iraq for ‘but.’ 112 I asked 

one of my consultants if lê belê could be translated as ‘but yes,’ and she said that this 

may actually be a better translation. However, she does not use lê belê in her common 

spoken language or poetry, and she finds its usage a little odd. Between hearing her 

comments and seeing the number of words meaning ‘but,’ it is clear that we are dealing 

111 Meaning unknown. 

112 From personal experience, I can affirm that belê is used for ‘but’ in Northern Iraq. Additionally, the 

word bes is used. Bes, however, is usually never used in writing in Iraq; belê (and perhaps lê) is used.

177 

with subdialect differences. What I have shown in this discussion is that there is 

definitely an opportunity here for a poet to capitalize on, as lê and belê (and perhaps lê 

belê) can be used interchangeably, providing the poet syllable length options. More 

research may reveal that poets are capitalizing on these subdialect differences. 

(289) lê belê dest-ê xudan-î ew=e neqiqaş-ê qeder (BS1:13) 

but yes hand-EZ.M Lord-OBL.M 3D=COP.PRS.3SG painter-EZ.M fate 

‘Yes, it’s in God’s hand; he’s the painter of fate.’ 

(290) ew di dil da nîşte_cê-y-Ø-e lê belê çav-ê (BS1:30) 

3D in heart in settle:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG but yes eye-EZ.M 

me lê 

us on.1OM 

‘He has settled in our hearts, yes, but we will keep our eyes on him.’ 

In Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop,’ Nalbend used 

two different forms of a word meaning ‘liver,’ one having one syllable, the other two. In 

line 27, below in (291), he used cerg; in line 30, shown in (292), he used ceger. 

Potentially, one of these words was more common to his spoken language; the other from 

another area. The word mêlak, also used by Nalbend several times, is also translated as 

‘liver.’ 

(291) li min sot sing u cerg u dil (AN1:27) 

in 1OP burn.PST-3SG chest and liver and heart 

‘My chest and liver and heart in me were burnt.’ 

(292) ewê dil bir-Ø ceger ker_kir-Ø (AN1:30) 

3D heart take.PST-3SG liver break.apart.PST-3SG 

‘She took the heart and broke apart the liver.’ 

Nalbend also used two words meaning ‘finger.’ In line 53 of Xoşe Wekî Cenetê, 

ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven,’ the word til was used. In line 9 of Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We 

Want A Girl,’ he used the word tibl. 113 Nalbend used til, as opposed to tibl because it has 

113 The a on tibl is a feminine ezafe, connecting the modifying reflexive pronoun xwo (another spelling for 

xwe). In tibla the i elided and the l became the onset for the second syllable. Such elisions are discussed in 

§ 5.3.2 of this paper.

178 

only one syllable. Vice versa, he used tibil because it has two syllables. Potentially, one 

word is the form common to his dialect, while the other is from another subdialect. 

(293) zend u til u bask u mil (AN2:53) 


‘Forearm and finger and arm and shoulder’ 

(294) tibl-a xwo dirêj bi-k-et me (AN5:9) 

finger-EZ.F REFL point IRR-do.PRS-3SG 1OP 

‘Pointing her finger at us’ 

Lastly, the words ka and kanê, both meaning ‘where,’ are also variations of the 

same word. Sindî used both forms in two of his poems. In (295) and (296), the places of 

usage are underlined. In (295), it seems that Sindî was considering both syllable count 

and word variation in his decision on which words to use. In (296), however, the poem is 

in poetic prose. Perhaps Sindî wanted to vary the language, or maybe he wanted to keep 

the sentence with ka shorter, for rhythm’s sake. 

(295) erê ey dil kanê ew gul ka şemal-a geş (BS1:19) 

yes hey heart where 3D flower where candle-EZ.F bright 

u hil 

and lit 

‘Yes, O heart, where’s that flower? Where’s the bright and lit (glowing) candle?’ 

ka sîar-ê hilm-a mirn-ê kanê mîr-ê tirs (BS1:21-23) 

where knight-EZ.M steam-EZ.F death-OBL.F where leader-EZ.M fear 

nezan 

unknowing 

‘Where’s the knight of the steam death? Where’s the leader who doesn’t know 

fear?’ 

ka ‘egîd-ê wan dilêr-an evro man=e bê xudan 

where fighter-EZ.M 3OP hero-OBL.PL today become.PST=DIR without leader 

‘Where’s the fighter of those heroes? Today they became leaderless.’ 

av-a Aras-ê di-pirs-it îru kanê gemîvan 

water-EZ.F Aras-OBL.F IPFV-ask.PRS-3SG today where sailor 114 

‘The water of Aras 115 is asking, Where’s the sailor today?’ 

114 Or perhaps ‘skipper.’

179 

(296) kanê gundî (BS6:17-19) 

where people (village) 

‘Where’s the people?’ 

kanê ban 

where roof 

‘Where’s roof?’ 

ka dil-ê min 

where heart-EZ.M 1O 

‘Where’s my heart?’ 

5.4.1.3.2 Use of alternate word forms for rhyming purposes 

In some situations, the choice of an alternate word form, or in this example, word 

ending, is used for rhyming purposes. Hence, the choice is not for syntactic purposes, as 

was evident in § 5.4.1.3.1, but for rhyme. In line 10 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door 

of Life and Hopes,’ shown in (297), Sindî used two variants of the plural oblique suffix, - 

a and -an. The -an suffix is the standard for written texts, while the -a suffix is common 

in the spoken language. The first usage is on hinav, ‘guts.’ It has the plural ending -a. At 

the end of the line, dil, ‘heart,’ has the ending -an. Sindî used the -an ending on dil to 

rhyme dilan with gulan at the end of line 9 (not shown). Also worth noting here is the use 

of the conjunction u, ‘and.’ According to my consultant, u could be replaced with a 

comma, which is what the translator used in the English translation. 

(297) agir-ek berbî-Ø hinav 116 -a u talan-a cerg (BS4:10) 

fire-INDF occur in/on.PST-3SG guts-OBL.PL and pillage-EZ.F liver 

u dil-an 

and heart-OBL.PL 

‘A fire occured in the guts, pillaging the livers and hearts.’ 

115 Aras is the name of the river Barzanî and other Kurds crossed to enter into the Soviet Union, in what is 

now Azerbaijan. 

116 Also defined as ‘organs of the abdominal area.’

180 

5.4.1.3.3 Use of alternate word forms to vary language 

The use of alternate word forms for the purposes of varying language was already 

mentioned in § 5.4.1.3.1. In his poem Gutgutik, ‘Rumors,’ Silêman used two forms of the 

word meaning ‘if.’ In line 37, shown in (298), he used the word ger. In line 40, shown in 

(299), he uses eger. Note that Silêman’s poetry is in poetic prose, which therefore puts no 

demands on him for syllable length of line. I think it likely that only one of the forms is 

used in his common speech. Personally, I have observed many forms of this word 

meaning ‘if’: eger, ger, 117 gel, heger, heker and heku. Chyet (2003) lists even more 

possibilities. I recall having a conversation about this word with one friend of mine. I had 

learned the word heker, which is the word used in Zaxo. 118 My friend said, Em bêijîn 

eger, ‘We say eger.’ He seemed perplexed with heker, perhaps being unfamiliar with the 

subdialect of Zaxo Kurds. What is important to realize is that there are regional 

differences among Northern Kurdish speakers and that the language is not yet 

standardized. In Silêman’s case below, I would surmise that he simply wanted to vary his 

word usage. 

(298) ger direw bû-Ø (SS1:37) 

if lie COP.PST-3SG 

‘If it was a lie,’ 

(299) eger rast bû-Ø we=bû-Ø 119 (SS1:40) 

if correct COP.PST-3SG truth=COP.PST-3SG 

‘If it was correct, it was the truth.’ 

In one poem, Sindî used two words meaning ‘today’ in adjacent lines, evro and 

îru. Both words are two syllables long, so Sindî must have had some other reason for his 

differentiation. In other poems Sindî used evro. Potentially, îru is commonly used by 

117 According to my consultant, ger is only used in writing. 

118 My introduction to Northern Kurdish came by means of Şirîn’s dictionary and language learning 

materials (2006), which are based on the language of Zaxo. 

119 Use of webû seems to be idiomatic. If a person says, webû yan wenabû, the meaning is, ‘Is it true or not 

true.’ The word webû must then comprise both the noun ‘truth’ (or adjective ‘true’) and the copula. 

However, the word we is not listed in either Chyet (2003) or Şirîn (2006) as meaning ‘true’ or ‘truth.’

181 

Kurds from an area other than Sindî’s. Minimally, this example shows that Sindî, for 

some reason, chose to vary his language. 

(300) ka ‘egîdê wan dilêran evro man=e bê (BS1:22, 23) 

where fighter 3OP hero today became.PST-3PL=DIR without 

xudan 

leader 

‘Where’s the fighter of those heroes? Today they became leaderless.’ 

av-a aras-ê di-pirs-it îru kanê gemîvan 

water-EZ.F aras-OBL.F IPFV-ask.PRS-3SG today where sailor 

‘The water of Aras is asking: Where’s the sailor now?’ 

In another poem, shown below in (301), Sindî used the Northern Kurdish word 

for ‘life,’ jîn, three times in two lines. Needing to use ‘life’ yet again in the final clause of 

line 2, he resorted to using the Arabic equivalent, ‘emir. While ‘emir by itself is two 

syllables and jîn has but one syllable, when the ezafe particle is added, the syllable count 

for both words is equal: ‘em.rê and jî.na. Hence, Sindî had some other reason for using 

‘emir here. 

(301) dergeh-ê jîn u hîvî-a girt-y-Ø-e (BS4:1, 2) 

door-EZ.M life and hope-OBL.PL close:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG 

dîsa çima 

again why 

‘The door of life and hopes is closed again, why?’ 

ma ji jîn-a kurt=e jîn b-it ma ji 

INTRG as life-EZ.F short=COP.PRS.3SG life COP.PRS-3SG INTRG from 

‘emr-ê me çi ma-Ø 

life-EZ.M 1OP what remain.PST-3SG 

‘Is it a short life? It's life. What has remained from our life?’ 

Being an outsider, it is sometimes very difficult to determine which words in a 

poem are not from the poet’s common language. As the Kurds in Northern Iraq become 

more unified, we can expect to see poets, and writers in general, borrowing more words 

from dialects more different from their own. This was confirmed by the poet Hizirvan, 

who mentioned that he will sometimes use Sorani words in his poems, Sorani being the 

dominant Kurdish language in Northern Iraq. We may also see the opposite effect, a 

standardization of the language resulting in a loss of word forms.

182 

5.4.1.3.4 Use of emphatic words 

In one example in § 5.4.1.3.1, I mentioned the word belê, which in some contexts 

means ‘yes.’ Such words may be used to emphasize something, giving added stress. For 

the Neo-classical poet, such words may also be seen as “free” words, free syllables that 

can be added to a line, helping the poet reach a required syllable count. Another word 

often translated as ‘yes’ is erê. Sindî used this word at the end of line 26, rhyming with 

berê in line 25, also shown. Use of the word adds a meaning similar to the adverbial and 

interjectional uses of ‘indeed’ in English. In this instance, erê emphasizes the truth of the 

proposition. 

(302) lê bi çun-a te her em=în ser (BS1:25, 26) 

however with departure-EZ.F 2O all 1OP=COP.PRS.1PL in 

zeman-ê te u ber-ê 

time-EZ.M 2O and past-OBL.M 

‘However, with your departure, it’s still us in your time and your past.’ 

çunkî tu hey-Ø u her hey-î ruh u 

because 2D exist.PRS-2SG and always exist.PRS-2SG soul and 

wîjdan=î, 

erê 

conscience=COP.PRS.2SG yes 

‘Becase you exist and always will exis, you are the soul and the conscience, yes.’ 

Sindî used the word erê in two other places, but for non-rhyming purposes. Line 

19 of Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ begins with erê and 

is followed by another interjection, ey, which may be comparable to ‘hey’ or ‘O.’ Both 

erê and ey helped Sindî reach his desired meter. While they do provide some emotive 

effects, they are not required in the meaning of the clause. In (304), the word erê begins 

Sindî’s poem Mîrê Peyvan, ‘The Prince of Words.’ I suppose such use of an interjection 

works as an emotional appeal, to grab the attention of the reader, welcoming him or her 

into what appears to be an ongoing discussion. However, it may be that Sindî’s purpose 

was to gain extra syllables. 

(303) erê ey dil kanê ew gul ka şemal-a geş u hil (BS1:19) 

yes O heart where 3D flower that candle-EZ.F bright and lit 

‘Yes, O heart, where’s that flower? Where’s the bright and lit (glowing) candle?’

183 

(304) erê sîlav çima evro melwîl u hişk u zuha=yî? (BS7:1) 

yes waterfall why today sad and dry and thirsty=COP.PRS.2SG 

‘Yes, waterfall, why are you so sad and dry and thirsty today?’ 

Another emphasis word, nê, is found in line 6 of the same poem, shown in (305). 

According to my consultant, nê has a usage similar to one usage of the word ‘do’ in 

English―to emphasize or intensify. For example, someone meets with a friend she has 

not seen in a long time and says ‘I do miss you.’ The word ‘do’ here intensifies the 

feeling of missing. In the example below, Sindî is either emphasizing the action of nalîn 

or the subject me, 1OP. More examples are needed in order to determine specifics about 

how this word is used. 

(305) nê me nal-î-Ø-ne ji dîr-î meî-ya (BS1:6) 

do 1OP lament:PST-PRF-be:PST-3PL from distance-OBL.M wine-EZ.F 

‘şq-a me mey=î 

love-EZ.F 1OP wine=COP.PRS.2SG 

‘We do lament from the distance, the wine of our love. You are the wine.’ 

Concerning the general use of emphatic words, it is difficult to know a poet’s 

motivation for using them and there are probably many reasons to use them. Similarly, I 

would expect that Kurdish emphatic words, like those in English, could have been used in 

many locations in the poems where they were not used. 

5.4.1.3.5 Omission of conjunctions and relativizers 

In the discussion thus far, we have seen many situations where a poet has taken 

the freedom to include or exclude some word. Another word that Northern Kurdish poets 

often leave out is the conjunction meaning ‘and.’ Omission of conjunctions is called 

asyndeton, which literally means ‘without connections’ (Adams 1997: 121). In many 

situations in Northern Kurdish where a conjunction is not used, there is a tendency to use 

a conjunction in the English translation, especially when the two clauses are short simple 

sentences. 

Consider the following two examples from Nalbend. In (306), Nalbend used the 

conjunction u, ‘and.’ In (307), there is no conjunction. These are similar situations where 

the subject is the same for both clauses in the line.

184 

(306) şêr ew=in u sef dirrî-n (AN2:60) 

lion 3D=COP.PRS.3PL and line turn.PST-3PL 

‘They are lions and they turn in lines.’ 

(307) ewê dil bir-Ø ceger ker_kir-Ø (AN1:30) 

3D heart take.PST-3SG liver break.apart.PST-3SG 

‘She took the heart and broke apart the liver.’ 

As is the often the case with poetry, the poet has a tendency to condense 

language. In line 13 from Sindî’s Mirê Peyvan, shown in (308), the translator decided to 

use ‘and’ in the translation, whereas the conjunction, u, had not been used in the text. 

(308) te sîng_da ber reşebay-an bi xizmet (BS7:13) 

2O lead.PST-2SG in.front.of storm-OBL.PL with service 

çû-y=e ezman-î 

go.PST-2SG=DIR language-OBL.M 

‘You led (put your chest) in front of the storms and you served the language.’ 

In some situations a poet may leave out a conjunction between nouns in a 

compound subject. In (309), there is no u between Qudsî and Mistefa, while it was used 

between ‘zat and Xeîrî, and Xeîrî and Qudsî, the other nouns making up the subject. 

Perhaps Sindî left out the conjunction because of syllable count. 

(309) ‘zet u Xeîrî u Qudsî Mistefa ew çar bira (BS4:27) 

Ezat and Xayrî and Qudsî Mustafa 3D four brothers 

‘Ezat, Xayrî, Qudsî and Mustafa―those four brothers,’ 

Another word that poets often have freedom to include or exclude is ku, which is 

most often translated as the relativizer ‘that’ or ‘which.’ It can also function as a relative 

pronoun. In line 14 from Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ 

shown in (310), Sindî did not include ku between the two phrases. In this sentence, the 

object fermanek, ‘an order,’ functions as the head of the modifying clause, sutîye li me 

ceger, i.e. ‘an order burned the liver in us.’ 

(310) wî wesa ferman-ek day-î sut-î-y-Ø-e li (BS1:14) 

3OM like.that order.INDF give.PST-3SG burn:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG in 

me ceger 

1OP liver 

‘He gave an order like that, the liver in us has burned.’

185 

Relativizers can often be left out of phrases in English. For example, I can say ‘I 

read the book that you gave me,’ using ‘that’ as a relativizer in the second clause 

modifying ‘book.’ Or I can say ‘I read the book you gave me,’ without the relativizer. In 

this example, the object of the first clause, ‘book,’ functions as its head, filling the 

gap―the missing argument for the transitive verb ‘gave’―in the modifying clause 

(Kroeger 2004:165-6). Speakers of English often leave out relativizers when permissible, 

thereby condensing the language. 

I have also observed that the same is true in the speech variety in Northern Iraq, 

where speakers tend to omit use of the word ku where it functions as a relativizer. 

Conversely, according to Nicholas Bailey, 120 speakers of Northern Kurdish in Turkey 

tend to use ku more often than not. 121 According to my consultant, ku is unnecessary in 

line 35 of example (311). In (312), ku is again an extra word that is not required. Its 

exclusion would not have changed the meaning of the sentence. In both situations, then, it 

seems that its inclusion helped Sindî reach the desired syllable count. 

(311) ger zewal-a te hat-Ø-b-it her (BS1:33) 

if time.to.pass.away-EZ.F 2O come.PST.PTCP-COP.PRS-3SG always 

dê mîn-î tu u her 122 

will remain.PST-2SG 2D and always 

‘If your time to pass away is come, you will remain (exist) forever.’ 

çunkî Kurdînî na-mir-it çav heval=e (BS1:34) 

because Kurdishness NEG-die.PRS-3SG eye friend=COP.PRS.3SG 

120 Personal correspondence (2012). 

121 Thackston (2006:75-77), whose grammar exhibits Northern Kurdish in Turkey, also provides some 

examples of relative clauses that show use of ku, usually in conjuction with a preceding ezafe conjunctive 

particle. He does mention that occasionally ku is omitted when “the relative is the object in the relative 

clause.” 

122 The idiom her u her is usually translated as ‘forever.’ In this line, I believe this is the intended meaning, 

though the words are separated in the sentence. The words dê mînî tu, ‘you will remain,’ immediately 

follow the first her. Having u her at the end of the line allowed for Sindî to rhyme the line with nezer at the 

end of line 34.

186 

bu nezer 

for sight 

‘Because Kurdishness doesn’t die, (like how) the eyes are a friend of one’s sight.’ 

ku kemal-a te gehişt=e geş stêr-a (BS1:35) 

that perfection-EZ.F 2O reach.PRS.3SG=DIR bright star-EZ.F 

Muşter-î 

Jupiter-OBL.M 

‘That your perfection arrives at the bright star of Jupiter.’ 

(312) hêşta zaru bû-Ø dem-ê ku dît-î-Ø-ye (BS1:40) 

still child COP.PST-3SG when-OBL.F that see:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG 

kuvan u kul 

sadness and grief 

‘He was still a child when he saw sadness and grief.’ 

In some situations the word ku is necessary for proper understanding. According 

to my consultant, ku is required in the second line of (313). 

(313) kulîlk-a pîr u lawan=e (AN1:71-72) 

flower-EZ.F old and young=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘She is the flower of the old and the young’ 

ku derman-a me xesta bû-Ø 

which medicine-EZ.F 1OP sick COP.PST-3SG 

‘which was the medicine for us who were sick.’ 

5.4.1.3.6 Placement of temporal adverbs 

Temporal adverbs may appear in a number of locations in a sentence. According 

to my consultant, all of the sentences in (314) and (315) are permissible and common in 

the speech variety of northern Iraq. The most common positions are immediately before 

or after the subject. 

(314) evro ez dê çi-m=a Dohuk-ê 

today 1D will go.PRS-3SG=DIR Dohuk-OBL.M 

Ez evro dê çima Dohukê. 

Ez dê evro çima Dohukê. 

Ez dê çima Dohukê evro. 

‘I will go to Dohuk today.’ 

(315) her roj Şivan sêv-ek-ê xw-it 

every day Shivan apple-INDF-OBL.M eat.PRS-3SG

187 

Şivan her roj sêvekê xwit. 

Şivan sêvekê her roj xwit. 

Şivan sêvekê xwit her roj. 

‘Every day Shivan eats an apple.’ 

The variable positions of temporal adverbs can aid the Neo-classical poet. In Ey 

Malikê Vê ‘Alemê, ‘O Lord Of This World,’ Nalbend put the temporal adverbial phrase 

sal u zeman, ‘year and time’ at the end of line 7, rhyming zeman with the words eman, 

‘oh’ (at the caesura in the same line) and neman, ‘did not remain’ (at the caesura in line 

8). 123 While it is possible that Nalbend’s motivation was pragmatic; it seems more likely 

that he wanted to benefit from the end rhyme. 

(316) ey ‘ebid u însan-în eman hişyar_bi-b-in sal (AN3:7, 8) 

O slave and human-OBL.PL oh wake.up_IRR-be-IMP.PL year 

u zeman 

and time 

‘O slaves and human kind, oh, wake up (from) years and time (of sleep).’ 

mirn-ê birî-n em kew ne-ma-n ḧeq=e 

death take.PST-3PL us partridge NEG-remain.PST-3PL right=COP.PRS.3SG 

mirin rêk-a me=ye 

death path-EZ.F 1OP=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘Death took us; the partridges didn’t remain; it is right that death is our path.’ 

Sindî also utilized a temporal adverbial clause at the end of a line for rhyming 

purposes. In line 23 of Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ sal, ‘year,’ 

rhymes with şepal, ‘bright,’ in line 24. 

(317) tazî ya Qazî ji_bîr ne-k-in bo bi-k-in (BS4:23) 





kuzrî-n gul-ên çîa-yan nêrgiz-ên şeng (BS4:24) 


123 While this poem was published as having been written as couplets, the rhyming scheme is that of a 

quatrain.

188 

u şepal 

and bright 


5.4.1.3.7 Placement of prepositional phrases 

Prepositional phrases also have more than one permissible position in a sentence. 

According to my consultant, every position is viable for the locative prepositional phrase 

li Dohukê , ‘in Dohuk,’ in (318). 

(318) li Dohuk-ê min pertuk-ek kir-î 

in Dohuk-OBL.F 1O book-INDF buy.PST.3SG 

Min li Dohukê pertukek kirî. 

Min pertukek li Dohukê kirî. 

Min pertukek kirî li Dohukê. 

‘I bought a book in Dohuk.’ 

The flexibility of the placement of prepositional phrases is yet another tool for the 

poet, particularly for those who write in the Neo-classical style. What might be true for 

adverbial clauses could also be true for prepositional phrases, that their placement in lines 

of poetry could result from non-pragmatic decisions. While a particular location for a 

prepositional phrase might result in some pragmatic effect―as opposed to it being placed 

in its most common position―the effect may be acceptable to the author. Hence, the 

motivation may be syntactic and any additional pragmatic effect satisfactory. 

5.4.1.4 Constructional schemes 

Turco (2000:9) writes, “Constructional schemes are strategies for constructing 

sentences...ways in which words, phrases, clauses, and larger units are grammatically 

balanced in sentences.” Parallelism, for example, is a syntactic arrangement that deeply 

engages with reason. Adams (1997:108-9) writes, “The parallel syntax itself conveys the 

meaning: these two (or more) thoughts are equal in importance.” With regard to 

repetition, it is “one of the most basic forms of emotional emphasis” (Adams 1997:113). 

In this section, I discuss some noteworthy constructional schemes in the corpus and their 

possible pragmatic effects.

189 

5.4.1.4.1 Repetition and repetitional schemes 

The form tercîa band, discussed in § 5.3.1.3, is an obvious repetitional scheme. 

The first two lines from Sindî’s Nehat, ‘It Did Not Come,’ shown in (319), represent the 

only tercîa band poem in the corpus. Throughout a tercîa band poem, each line must end 

with the same word or words. In the case of Sindî’s poem, the refrain is composed of the 

syllable za at the end of a word, followed by the phrase min nehat, ‘did not come.’ Such 

repetition at the end of a line is known as epistrophe (Adams 1997:114). In Nehat, most 

lines display an antithesis, which Wendland (2002a:66) calls a “base-contrast” 

parallelism. The second part of the line contrasts with a key feature in the first part of the 

line. Most lines state that something desirable has not come, while a few lines state that 

something undesirable has not come. In the first part of line 1, a negative thing has 

occurred. As a result of some people being taken captive, the poet’s self-respect has not 

come. It seems that he would have his self-respect if the people with whom he identifies 

had their freedom. In the first part of line 2, a positive thing has occurred. As a result of 

remaining in love, he has not been experiencing negative emotions that can come from 

falling out of love. In this poem the syntactic repetition works to engage the reader with 

the poet’s emotional states. 

(319) dîl u êxsîr-î 124 ji gel-î bu-n 125 (BS5:1) 

captive and prisoner-EZ.M of people-OBL.M become.PST-3PL 

ser_feraz-a 126 min ne-hat-Ø 

pride-EZ.F 1O NEG-come.PST-3PL 

124 While this -î looks like a masculine oblique marker, functionally it would not make sense. It is unusual 

for Sindî to use -î instead of -ê as a masculine ezafe conjunctive particle, but the function in this line does 

seem to be that of an ezafe particle. It may also be a typographical error, as there is a small difference 

between these letters in the Kurdish (modified Arabic) script. 

125 In many of the initial lines of this poem, the subject is first person singular. Potentially there is a 

typographical error on bun and it should have been written as bum for first person singular. The original 

translator had translated the line as, ‘I became a captive…” I have chosen to render it, and discuss the line, 

according to the original text.

190 

‘They became captives and prisoners of people―my pride (self-respect) did not 

come.’ 

ma-m di ’îşq-a wê şepal-ê sil u (BS5:2) 

remain.PST-1SG in love-EZ.F 3OF wave-EZ.M ill.temper and 

zîz-a min ne-hat-Ø 

discontent-EZ.F 1O NEG-come.PST-3PL 

‘I remained in love with her―my wave of ill temper and discontent did not come.’ 

Epistrophe was also used throughout much of another poem. In Cegerxwîn’s Dilê 

Cegerxwîn, ‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart,’ the word dil, ‘heart,’ is line-final in the initial two lines, 

the final two lines, and every even numbered line. The word ew, 3D, a referent of dil, is 

also repeated twice at the end of lines and four times at caesuras. While the lines of this 

poem are written as couplets, the form of each couplet is that of a quatrain. See § 5.3.1.1 

for the discussion of the form of this and other quatrain poems. 

Another mode of repetition in this poem is the placement of the subjects dil and 

ew (which refers to dil) after the copula in equative and attributive clauses, previously 

discussed in § 5.4.1.1.2. Lines with repetition of constituent order deviation would 

classify such repetitions as instances of grammatical parallelism, a topic discussed in 

§ 5.4.1.4.2. In line 13 of the poem, shown in (320), the subject ew, 3D, follows zozane, ‘is 

a summer pasture,’ and Wane, ‘is Van,’ a city in Turkey is also followed by ew. In line 

14, shown in line (321), ew follows westane, ‘is kneeling,’ and dil, ‘heart,’ follows 

zinare, ‘is a massive rock.’ 

(320) geh çol=e geh zozan=e (CX1:13) 

at.times waste=COP.PRS.3SG at.times summer.pasture=COP.PRS.3SG 

ew geh Dêrik u geh wan=e ew 

3D at.times Dereek and at.times Wan=COP.PRS.3SG 3D 

‘At times it is the wilderness, at times the summer pasture, at times Dereek and at 

times it is Wan,’ 

126 Chyet (2003) lists serfiraz as ‘proud’ and serfirazî as ‘pride’ or ‘self-respect.’ Sindî has ser feraz as 

separate words, perhaps making it a prepositional phrase, as ser is a preposition that means ‘on.’ However, 

ser can also be a noun meaning ‘head.’ There is no listing for feraz by itself. Rendering it as ‘pride’ seems 

to be the most fitting translation.

191 

(321) geh şax=e geh westan=e ew (CX1:14) 

at.times standing=COP.PRS.3SG at.times kneeling=COP.PRS.3SG 3D 

geh mûş=e geh zinar=e dil 

at.times mûş=COP.PRS.3SG at.times rock=COP.PRS.3SG heart 

‘At times it’s standing (strong), at times kneeling (tired), at times it’s mûş 127 and at 

times the heart is a massive rock.’ 

Also notice the repetitive use of geh, ‘at times,’ in these lines. Cegerxwîn uses 

geh in two ways. One, to present antinomy, things that are or seem to be opposites to 

him, such as Dêrik and Wan, which are cities in the Kurdish area of Turkey. He also uses 

geh to form a group, such as his listing of Berber, Circassian, Turk and Tartar in line 12, 

shown in (322). It may be that Berber is somehow the opposite of Circassian, and Turk 

the opposite of Tarter. However, without some help from historians who understand 

Kurdish history as well as Cegerxwîn’s philosophical stance, I can only presume from the 

context given that these four people groups are grouped together here as peoples with 

whom the Kurds engaged in past centuries. 

(322) geh Berber=e geh Çerkes=e geh (CX1:12) 

at.times Berber=COP.PRS.3SG at.times Circassian=COP.PRS.3SG 3D 

Turk=e geh Tatar=e dil 

Turk=COP.PRS.3SG at.times Tatar=COP.PRS.3SG heart 

‘At times it’s Berber, at times it’s Circassian, at times it’s Turkish, at times the 

heart is Tartar.’ 

Other repetitions were more subtle, such as the phrase xatwîna min , ‘my dear,’ 

repeated five times in Silêman’s 'Eşqa Dihokî Ya, ‘Dohukîan Love.’ The phrase works to 

keep the reader empathetically engaged in the message of the poem. He also repeated the 

word evîn, ‘love (northern Kurdish),’ eight times and its Arabic equivalent ‘eşiq, ‘love 

(Arabic)’ four times. The poem is a comparison of two juxtaposed loves―not between 

Kurds and Arabs, but between false love and true love. One love is a counterfit love that 

he says is present and active in the city of Dohuk, and he describes some of the ways in 

127 Meaning unknown. Muş is the name of a province in the Kurdish area of Turkey, however use of it 

seems vague here (whereas in the line above there is a comparison drawn between Dêrik and Wan). 

According to Omar, mûş (with a different vowel) can mean ‘unknown land’ (Omar 1992).

192 

which this false love is carried out. At the end of the poem, Silêman describes what real 

love consists of. 

Quçan repeated the vocative helo, translated as ‘eagle,’ five times in his free verse 

poem Befir Ya Li Vêrê, ‘Snow Is Here.’ He also repeated the word befir, ‘snow,’ nine 

times in the poem as he paints a picture of the winter season. In another poem by Quçan, 

Birînên Şevên Xwînelo, ‘Wounds of Night Covered in Blood,’ the word xwîn, ‘blood’ and 

variations of xwîn appear 16 times. The repetition works to etch into the mind of the 

reader just how horrifying were the experiences described throughout the poem. 

There were a number of repetitions in Teyb’s poem Kî Dê Merwa Tena Ket?, 

‘Who Will Comfort Merwa?’ The subject of the poem, the girl Merwa, and the vocative, 

ey Xudayê Mezin, ‘O Great God,’ are each repeated four times. Additionally, seven lines 

begin with the interrogative kî, ‘who.’ In these lines the poet is putting forth rhetorical 

questions that function as requests to God himself, asking him to intervene on Merwa’s 

behalf. The poem also repeats other images and figures, such as comfort, lack of family, 

and kîna reş, ‘black malice,’ the cause of Merwa’s desperate situation. 

Silêvani repeated the title of his prose poem, Ew Xanîma Henê, 128 ‘That Woman,’ 

at the beginning of each of the seven stanzas. Additionally, the second line of each stanza 

begins with the word ewa, ‘she who.’ Repetition is part of the form and serves to 

emphasize the woman who is the focus of the poem. In each stanza the reader learns 

something new about her. 

In his poem Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, ‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’ Sindî repeated 

the initial two lines of the poem as a refrain in lines 15 and 16, 31 and 32, and the closing 

lines, 47 and 48. These lines are reproduced in example (323) below. The repeated lines 

remind the hearer of the gravity of the issue being presented. 

128 According to my consultant, the word henê is used to “refer to or point to something.” The author could 

have simply said xatima henê, leaving off the word ew, a demonstrative here. Perhaps by using both ew and 

henê, the statement is emphatic.

193 

(323) dergeh-ê jîn u hîvî-a girt-y-Ø-e (BS4:1, 2) 

door-EZ.M life and hope-OBL.PL close:PST-PRF-be:PST-3SG 

dîsa çima 

again why 

‘The door of life and hopes is closed again, why?’ 

ma ji jîn-a kurt=e jîn b-it ma ji 

INTRG as life-EZ.F short=COP.PRS.3SG life COP.PRS-3SG INTRG from 

‘emr-ê me çi ma-Ø 

life-EZ.M 1OP what remain.PST-3SG 

‘Is it a short life? It's life. What has remained from our life?’ 

Another repetition in the same poem occurs in lines 42 through 46, just before the 

end. Each of these lines, shown in (324), begins with the word nabitin, a word that seems 

to function as a modal adjective. Like other modal adjectives, the verb that follows it 

must have the irrealis prefix, bi-. According to my consultant, nabitin may be translated 

as ‘impossible, cannot, is not going to.’ 129 Such repetition at the beginning of lines is 

called anaphora (Adams 1997:114) in rhetorical terminology. The repetition builds and 

then concludes with the refrain in (323), Sindî’s last effort to instill the theme of his poem 

in the mind of the reader. 

(324) nabitin bu me bi-bîn-în jêr u jur u çep (BS4:42) 

not.allowed for 1OP IRR-see.PRS-1PL bottom and top and left 

u rast 

and right 

‘It’s impossible for us to see it from bottom and top and left and right.’ 

nabitin bu me tewaf-a ew cih-ê lê Mem u (BS4:42) 

not.allowed for us worship-EZ.F 3D place-EZ.M in.3OM Mem and 

Zîn 130 

Zîn 

‘We can’t go and worship the place of Mem and Zeen.’ 

129 The opposite of nabitin is dibitin. 

130 Mem and Zîn are the central characters of one of the most famous pieces of Kurdish literature, Mem U 

Zîn, written by Ehmed Xanî, who is mentioned in line 45 of Sindî’s poem.

194 

nabitin evro bi-bur-în ji tuxîb-ê Xanîqîn (BS4:44) 

not.allowed today IRR-pass.PRS-2PL from danger-EZ.M Xanîqîn 

‘It’s impossible today for us to pass from the danger of Xanîqîn.’ 

nabitin bi-ç-im nik Xanî bu vek-im (BS4:45) 




‘I can’t go near Xanî and open for him my heart with blood (sadness).’ 


not.allowed IRR-go.PRS-1SG Dersîm-OBL.F IRR-break.body.PRS-1SG 



‘I can’t go to Dersîm and break in two pieces my heart with love.’ 

Nalbend also used a type of repetition in two of his poems, in which he repeats a 

large portion of a quatrain in the first line of the following quatrain. In poetic terms, such 

interlocking repetition―whether in sounds rhymes or words―which connects one stanza 

to another is called chaining (Turco 2000:147). For example, line 36 in Xoşe Wekî 

Cenetê, ˈIt’s Wonderful Like Heaven,’ shown in (325), is the last line of a quatrain. 

Nalbend began the next quatrain with the same words that began the previous line, ev 

wetenê, ‘this country.’ 

(325) ev weten-ê dil ḧeb-în (AN2:36, 37) 

3DN country-EZ.M heart exist.PST-3PL 

‘This country that embraces and nourishes the heart.’ 131 

ev weten-ê hu spehî 

3DN country-EZ.M so beautiful 

‘This country so beautiful.’ 

The other occurrence of anaphoric chaining in this poem occurs in lines 60 and 

61, shown in (326). The first two words of the last line in a quatrain are repeated as the 

first two words at the beginning of the next quatrain. It seems that the author uses the 

repetition as a means to continue the same line of thought in the next quatrain. 

131 Alternative translation by mother-tongue speaker: ‘This heart-welcoming country’ The plural ending -în 

on the verb stem ḧeb, is confusing, as the subject appears to be singular.

195 

(326) şêr ew=in u sef dirrî-n (AN2:60, 61) 

lion 3D=COP.PRS.3PL and line turn.PST-3PL 

‘They are lions and they turn in lines.’ 

şêr ew-in u xurt u mest 132 

lion 3D=COP.PRS.3PL and strong and stimulated 

‘They are lions and brave and stimulated (intoxicated with strong emotion).’ 

Nalbend’s poem Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî, ‘Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop,’ 

contains various kinds of repetitions. In the examples below, the repeated words are 

underlined as above. In some lines only one word is repeated, such as, Xudê, ‘God,’ and 

xunav, ‘dew,’ in (329) and (330). In other places a number of words are repeated, such as 

the phrase ji mêlaka me xûn, ‘from our live blood,’ in (331). Example (327) is an instance 

of anadiplosis, the act of repeating the last word or phrase in a line at the beginning of 

the next (Adams 1997:115). In (334), another instance of anadiplosis, Nalbend basically 

repeated the phrase Xudê da bû, ‘God created,’ but changed the compound verb da bû, 

‘created,’ to kir, which means ‘made.’ Note that bela, ‘trouble, problem,’ also appears in 

both lines in this example. 

(327) me texm-în kir Zuleyxa 133 bû-Ø (AN1:4, 5) 

1OP think-1PL do.PST-3SG 

‘We thought she was a Zuleyxa.’ 

Zuleykha COP.PST-3SG 

Zuleyxa bu-Ø sîfe hûrî 

Zuleykha COP.PST-3SG look-EZ.PL huree 

‘It was Zuleykha, the looks of a heavenly wife.’ 

(328) çû-Ø hal bu min ne-hêla bû-Ø (AN1:16, 17) 

go-PST-3SG state for 1O NEG-leave.PRS.3SG COP.PST-3SG 

‘She went; left me feeling crazy (high love/sexual emotion).’ 

ne-hêla bo kes-ê hal-ek 

NEG-leave.PRS.3SG for person-EZ.M state-INDF 

‘She didn’t leave anyone in peace (made everyone crazy).’ 

132 Mest can also mean ‘drunk, intoxicated with alcohol.’ 

133 According to Islamic tradition, Zuleyxa is the name of the Pharoah’s wife, the one who loved the 

prophet Joseph.

196 

(329) Xudê heq taze kêşa bû-Ø (AN1:20, 21) 

God freckle fine place COP.PST-3SG 

‘God chose a fine place for that freckle.’ 

Xudê suret muneqiqeş kir-Ø 

God verse-EZ.PL decorative do.PST-3SG 

‘God made decorative caligraphic verse.’ 

(330) siḧar-ê zû xunav da=bû-Ø (AN1:24, 25) 

morning-EZ.M dew give=COP.PST-3SG 

‘Early in the morning it gave dew.’ 

xunav-ê teff kir-in sunbul 

mist-EZ.M make-PST-3PL flower.bud 

‘The dew made the bud of a flower.’ 

(331) ji mêlak-a me xûn za=bû-Ø (AN1:28, 29) 

from liver-EZ.F 1OP blood spring=COP.PST-3SG 

‘From our liver sprang blood.’ 

ji mêlak-a me xûn derkir-Ø 

from liver-EZ.F 1OP blood flow.PST-3SG 

‘From our liver blood poured out.’ 

(332) şil _u_mil ew muheîya bû-Ø (AN1:32, 33) 

beautiful 3D alive COP.PST-3SG 

‘Beautiful―she was alive.’ 

şil_u_mil bû-Ø hemî gava 

beautiful COP.PST-3SG all time.’ 

‘Beautiful she was all the time.’ 

(333) hewar 134 u sed hewar babû (AN1:56, 57) 

oh.my and hundred oh.my father 

‘Oh my! and a hundred oh my’s father!’ 

hewar ez ‘aşq-ê wê me 

oh.my 

‘Oh my! I am in love with her.’ 

1D love-EZ.M 3OF COP.PRS.1SG 

(334) bela bû-Ø ew Xudê da_bû-Ø (AN1:64, 65) 

trouble COP.PST-3SG 3D God create.PST_COP.PST-3SG 

‘Trouble was, God created her.’ 

Xudê kir-Ø bû bela bû me 

God make-PST-3SG for problem for 1OP 

‘God made her a problem for us.’ 

134 A call for help.

197 

(335) ev-e fexr-a me hemy-a bû-Ø (AN1:68, 69) 

3DN-SRM pride-EZ.F 1OP all-OBL.PL COP.PST-3SG 

‘This was the pride of all of us.’ 

ev-e fexr-a me Kurd-an=e 

3DN-SRM pride-EZ.F 1OP Kurd-OBL.PL=COP.PRS.3SG 

‘This is the pride of the Kurds.’ 

Cegerxwîn utilized the same sort of repetition in one line of Dilê Cegerxwîn, 

‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart.’ In line 7, shown in (336), he repeated the words naxoş and bêzar, 

which were used in the second hemistich in line 6, also shown, to describe his ‘heart.’ 

Furthermore, pir, which means ‘quite’ or ‘fully,’ echoes the usage of hem, ‘always,’ in 

line 6. Both words represent the greatest degree in their domains of time and quantity. 

We could also refer to this as a miniature chiasmus (defined in § 5.4.1.4.4), since 

Cegerxwîn reversed the order of naxoş and bêzar. The subject ew in line 7 is a referent of 

dil at the end of line 6; hence, the subject is also repeated in 7. This repetition works to 

emphasize the condition of the author’s heart, in hope of spawning empathy in the reader. 

(336) her gav u her êvarê min, naxoş u hem (CX1:6) 

every morning and every evening 1O, unwell and always 

bêzar=e 

dil 

despondent=COP.PRS.3SG heart 

‘Every morning and every evening of mine, the heart is unwell and always 

despondent.’ 

bêzar u pir naxoş=e ew, kincên sîyeh – (CX1:7) 

despondent and quite unwell=COP.PRS.3SG 3D garments mourning – 

gûn 135 – poş=e ew 

manner sorrowful= COP.PRS.3SG it 

‘It is despondent and quite unwell, dressed in mourning garments; it is sorrowful.’ 

A final significant repetitional scheme was found in Sindî’s Gerîanek Di 

Kurdistanê Da, ‘A Walk Through Kurdistan.’ At the beginning of each verse, he says 

that he ‘went,’ çum, ‘came,’ hatim or ‘searched for,’ gerîam, some place, and there he 

met someone (or a metaphoric “someone” or a group of people represented as one 

135 I am unsure how kincên sîyeh and gûn fit into the phrases. The translation for gûn is questionable. The 

dashes (–) are part of the original text.

198 

person). 136 Then he asks the “someone” a series of questions. The end of each stanza 

contains the answers to the questions by the “someone” he is speaking with. In the final 

line, the “someone” states that he or she fell (ketîme) into some bad situation. 137 So there 

is repetition of words as well as form in each verse, which provides balance in the poem. 

5.4.1.4.2 Grammatical parallelism 

According to Turco (2000:9), “parallel sentence structures are constructional 

schemes, and the prosody that uses them is called grammatical parallelism.” Turco was 

applying these terms specifically regarding prose poetry. Mesud Xalaf’s Dahola Êşê, 

‘Drum of Pain,’ a prose poem, contains one such parallelism in lines 30 and 31, shown in 

(337). The parallelism works to give each line equal weight. Both are passive sentences 

beginning with the predicate and followed by the subject, a very uncommon constituent 

order for prose poetry. Normal word order for line 30 is aşûpên bextewariyê bijale bûn. 

The fronting of the predicates potentially works to make them more salient in the mind of 

the reader. But details regarding how foregrounding actually works in Northern Kurdish 

is an area requiring further research. 

(337) bijale bû-n aşûp-ên bextewar-yê (MX:30) 

scatter.PST.PTCP COP.PST-3PL visions-EZ.PL happiness-OBL.F 

‘The visions of the happiness were scattered.’ 

hat-in=e kuşt-in pirpirîk-ên deng-ê (MX:31) 




‘The butterflies of the sound of wounded fire were killed.’ 

Similarly, recall the discussion of lines 11 and 12 from Sindî’s Bîrewerîa Barzanî 

Yê Nemir, ‘Memories of Immortal Barzanî,’ in § 5.4.1.1.1, repeated below in (338). In 

these lines, Sindî placed the subject after the verb. In line 11, şîn bibin, ‘grow,’ comes 

136 In the third verse he meets himself. 

137 The end of the last verse varies from the norm. In this instance, the city (not a person) responds by 

stating her resolve to stand forever with Barzanî against those who mistreat the Kurdish people.

199 

before the subject nêrgiz, ‘narcissus.’ In line 12, bixuînin, ‘sing,’ comes before ‘endelîb, 

‘birds.’ Like the lines in the previous example, a deviant word order was repeated, 

qualifying it as a grammatical parallelism, which, as mentioned in § 5.4.1.4.1, may also be 

viewed as a type of repetitional scheme. Here, too, it is the action that has been fronted. 

(338) şîn_bi-b-in nêrgiz ji nu_ve 138 ber der-ê (BS1:11) 

grow_IRR-grow.PRS-3PL narcissus from new_again before place-EZ.M 

tekî-a 

ber-ê 



cardin bi-xuîn-in ‘endelîb 139 ew ji ‘şq-a daber-ê (BS1:12) 

Again IRR-sing.PRS-3PL birds 3D from love-EZ.F sweetheart-OBL.F 

‘Again may birds sing, that (song) from the love of the lover.’ 

Another prose poem with some lines having parallel structure was Deyka 

Dalyayê’s Ji Nazên Te Xerîbim, ‘I Miss Your Childlike Ways.’ In lines 46 through 49, 

shown in (339), imperfect verbs are preceded by prepositional phrases using the 

preposition digel, ‘with.’ 140 In this instance, the word order is considered normal. 

Dalyayê uses the repetition to colorfully describe events over a period of time. The 

repetition works to emphasize the bond in the relationship. 

(339) digel ba-î di-fir-în u (DD:46-49) 

with wind-OBL.M IPFV-fly.PST-1PL and 

‘With the wind we were flying and’ 

digel ruj-ê ava_di-bu-în u 

with sun-OBL.F set_IPFV-set.PST-1PL and 

‘With the sun we were setting and’ 

digel şev-ê di-nivist-în u 

with night-OBL.F IPFV-sleep.PST-1PL and 

‘With the night we were sleeping and’ 

138 Possible alternative transaltion for ji nuve: ‘from now on.’ 

139 An Arabic word for a specific type of bird. 

140 The prepostion digel here is often written as two words, di gel. I have left it the way it was written in the 

original text.

200 

digel elind-î hişîar_di-bu-în 

with dawn-OBL.M wake.up_IPFV-be.PST-1PL 

ˈWith the dawn we were waking up.’ 

Neo-classical poetry within this corpus also contained additional grammatical 

parallelisms. Consider example (340), two lines previously seen in § 5.4.1.4.1 on 

repetition. Notice the similarity in the structure of the lines. In both, the poet states that 

(1) he cannot go; (2) to some place (near Xanî/Dersîm); (3) to do some action 

(open/break); (4) his heart; (5) with some thing (blood/love). The near grammatical 

parallelism creates balance between the lines, allowing the reader to understand that Sindî 

finds the prohibition described in each line equally distressing. 

(340) nabitin bi-ç-im nik Xanî bu vek-im (BS4:45) 




‘I can’t go near Xanî and open for him my heart with blood (sadness).’ 


not.allowed IRR-go.PRS-1SG Dersîm-OBL.F IRR-break.body.PRS-1SG 



‘I can’t go to Dersîm and break in two pieces my heart with love.’ 

In another grammatical parallelism by Sindî, shown in (341), the parallelism 

works together with the rhyme scheme. The first half of each line begins with the people 

and is followed by an attributive phrase. Note that the description of the people in the 

second line is metaphorical. The second half of each line, while slightly different 

grammatically, contains a rich description of the people. Both lines end with tene. The 

second line, being a continuation of a description of the Kurdish people, is perhaps best 

understood as a figure of amplification. Adams writes, “figures of amplification extend 

the meanings of an otherwise plain statement, building a sense of magnitude, and 

sometimes generating further levels of figuration” (1997:117). The descriptions of the 

Kurdish people in both halves of line 18 deepen our knowledge of the poet’s opinion of 

those who supported their now deceased leader, Mustafa Barzanî.

201 

(341) mililet-ê Kurd pir wefa=ye sufy-ên dest-ên (BS1:17, 18) 

people-EZ.M Kurd so loyal=COP.PRS.3SG Sufi-EZ.PL hands-EZ.PL 

te=ne 

2O=COP.PRS.3PL 

‘Kurdish people are so loyal; they are the Sufis of your hands’ 

ruh ji êş-an pir sema=ye 141 ‘aşiq u 

soul of pain-OBL.PL full dance=COP.PRS.3SG lover and 

mest 142 -ên te=ne 

stimulated.one-EZ.PL 2O=COP.PRS.3PL 

‘The pained soul is full of dancing; they are your lovers and stimulated ones 

(intoxicated with strong emotion).’ 

The two lines previous to the example above, shown in (342), also exhibit a 

degree of grammatical parallelism. Both lines contain a four-part noun phrase that takes 

up the second half of each line. Each four-part noun phrase is made up of pairs of 

opposites. In line 15, the noun phrase consists of çep u rast u jor u jêr, ‘left and right and 

up and down,’ a description of the directions from which people came to grieve the loss 

of Mustafa Barzanî. The noun phrase in line 16 consists of a description of the people 

who were doing the grieving, kal u genc u jin u mêr, ‘old and adolescent and woman and 

man.’ The first halves of each line are also structurally parallel. Both lines begin with 

noun phrases consisting of two nouns connected by the conjunction u, ‘and.’ Line 15 

begins with şînyî u tazî, ‘mourning and condolence;’ line 16 begins with şev u roj, ‘night 

and day.’ Both of these are followed by a word meaning ‘people,’ xelkî and gelî (gelî 

happens to be in a prepositional phrase, ji gelî), as well as the copula bûn. Hence, the 

whole of line 16 is basically grammatically parallel with line 15. 

(342) şînyî u tazî ji gel-î bû-n çep u (BS1:15) 

mourning and condolence from people-OBL.M COP.PST-3PL left and 

rast u jor u jêr 

right and up and down 

‘There was mourning and condolence from people, from the left to right and up to 

down.’ 

141 Sema here means ‘dance, dancing’ or ‘heaven, arch of heaven/sky’ (Omar 1992). 

142 Mest is also the word meaning ‘drunk, intoxicated with alcohol.’

202 

şev u roj xelk-î girî bû-n kal (BS1:16) 

night and day people-OBL.M cry.PRS.PTCP COP.PST-3PL old 

u genc u jin u mêr 

and adolescent and woman and man 

‘Night and day people were crying, old and adolescent, women and men.’ 

Two other lines in the same poem seem to exhibit an intentional parallel. The 

subject of line 9, shown in (343), consists of three nouns, ciḧêl, pîr and jin, ‘young,’ 

‘old,’ and ‘woman.’ These describe me, 1OP, the pronoun that precedes these nouns. Line 

10, also shown, ends with a prepositional phrase containing three nouns, mezar, Înis and 

cin, ‘grave,’ ‘(prophet) Înis’ and ‘evil spirit.’ Thus, the part of the structure that is parallel 

consists of noun + u + noun + u + noun. While this is a less significant grammatical 

parallelism, it does seem clearly intentional on part of the poet. It is an attempt to create 

syntactic similarity in conjunction with the phonological similarity of jin and cin. 

(343) ayet-a Kursî ji_berkir-Ø me ciḧêl u pîr (BS1:9, 10) 


u jin 

and woman 


me du’a bu-Ø şev u ruj-an ji mezar u Înis u 

1OP prayer COP.PST-3SG night and day-OBL.PL from grave and Înis and 

cin 

evil.spirit 


Lastly, Nalbend’s Kiçkek Me Divêt, ‘We Want A Girl,’ exhibits grammatical 

parallelism in lines 23 and 24, shown in (344). The parallelism here is not only 

grammatical similarity. It may also be considered antithetically parallel. In line 23, the 

poet is stating what the woman wants from the poet. In line 24, the poet, speaking in the 

first person plural, is telling the woman what he and other men want from her. The 

pronouns, verbs and objects parallel each other across the lines. However, in line 23, 

instead of using the 1D pronoun ez with bidem, ‘I give,’ to parallel with tu, 2D, in line 24, 

Nalbend chose to use the optional relativizer ku, ‘that,’ as it rhymes with tu.

203 

(344) te di-vêt ku bi-de-m te mirç u (AN5:23) 

2O IPFV-want.PRS-3SG that IRR-give.PRS-1SG 2O kiss and 

maç-a 

louder.kiss-OBL.PL 

‘You want me to give you kisses and smooches.’ 

me di-vêt-Ø tu bi-de-y me zixt (AN5:24) 

1OP IPFV-want.PRS-3SG 2D IRR-give.PRS-2SG 1OP nail.on.end.of.oxgoad 

u xişt-î 

and staff-OBL.M 

‘We want you to give us pressure (pounding heart) and a staff.’ 

5.4.1.4.3 Synthesis 

Thus far in my discussion of parallelisms, I have focused on syntactic parallels. In 

this section, I highlight some lines of poetry that are semantically parallel. In the last 

example, (344), I mentioned that the lines may be considered as being antithetical, as it 

seems that Nalbend was expressing opposing ideas. In discourse terms, this parallel 

would be called base-contrast, where the second line contrasts with the first line, the 

base. 

Turco describes synthesis as a parallel structure of consequence, providing the 

example, “I love you; therefore, I am yours” (Turco 2000:9). These two clauses may be 

more specifically defined as having the causal semantic relation of ground-conclusion, 

where the first clause, ‘I love you,’ provides the basis or evidence for the conclusion in 

the second clause, ‘therefore, I am yours.’ Ground-conclusion is just one of many terms 

Wendland uses to describe causal relations (Wendland 2002a:98). 

The first four lines of Dilê Cegerxwîn, ‘Cegerxwîn’s Heart,’ previously discussed 

to illustrate syntactic repetition, contain four examples of synthesis that build on one 

another to lay a foundation for the rest of the poem. All four lines are shown in (345). 

The discourse term to more specifically describe the semantic relation between each 

line’s two clauses would be reason-result, rather than ground-conclusion, the term for 

Turco’s example. Wendland (2002a:98) describes a reason-result relation as, “Because 

one event happens, therefore another occurs.” The first half of each line speaks of the

204 

atrocities carried out upon the homeland of Kurdistan. The second half of each line 

speaks of the disastrous effect it has had on the author. Such repetition and balance in the 

initial four lines of the poem work to prepare the reader for balance throughout the poem, 

which Cegerxwîn delivers on, albeit through other poetic devices discussed elsewhere in 

this paper. 

(345) agir bi Kurdistan-ê ket-Ø lewra hawar=e (CX1:1) 

fire in Kurdistan-OBL.F devestate.PST-3SG thus cry.for.help=COP.PRS.3SG 

dil 

heart 

‘Kurdistan ravaged by fire, thus my heart is a cry for help.’ 

sed baẍ u sed bistan-î ket-Ø (CX1:2) 

hundred garden and hundred meadow-OBL.M devastate.PST-3SG 

manendî bilbil jar=e dil 

like nightingale miserable=COP.PRS.3SG heart 

‘A hundred gardens and a hundred meadows devastated―I, dejected, like a 

disheartened nightingale.’ 

pêt-ek ji Kurdistan-ê hat-Ø, mêalik u cerg-ê (CX1:3) 

flame.INDF from Kurdistan-OBL.F come.PST-3SG lung and liver-EZ.M 

min di-pat-Ø 

me IPFV-burn.PST-3SG 

‘A flame came from Kurdistan, burning my lung and liver.’ 

aman welat, aman welat, bawer_bi-k-in xwînxwar=e (CX1:4) 

alas home alas home believe_IRR-do.PRS-IMP.PL terrible=COP.PRS.3SG 

dil 

heart 

‘Alas my home, alas my home―believe me, (my) heart is terrible!’ 

5.4.1.4.4 Chiasmus 

Chiasmus is a parallel or antithetical structure that repeats terms in inverse order 

(Adams 1997:111). The following English example from Turco shows an inverse 

parallelism based on similarity. 

(346) I vied with the wind, she fought the air, (Turco 2000:12) 

and as she lost, I was victorious.

205 

The chiasmus in Cegerxwîn’s Dînê Me Tête Zanîn, ‘Our Religion Is Becoming 

Known,’ is based on antithesis, focusing on difference rather than similarity. In the 

second half of line 5, shown in (347), there is prepositional phrase that contains a list of 

areas of knowledge the elders possessed. The phrase comes after the verb. All of the 

nouns in the prepositional phrase are Arabic words by intention. In line 6, also shown, a 

list in a prepositional phrase comes at the beginning of the line, before the verb. I have 

underlined each list for ease of reference. In this instance, the description characterizes 

the situation of the common folk, who were left ignored by the elders. The elders are 

being rebuked here, not just for ignoring the people, but for ignoring their own language. 

The term base-contrast best describes the semantic relation expressed by these lines 

(2002a:98). Hence, this specific chiasmus exhibits both syntactic and semantic levels of 

parallelism. 

(347) xwe pîr di-k-in di wez’ê hem sirif u (CX3:5) 

REFL aged IPFV-do.PRS-3PL in morphology all grammar and 

ni’hu u mintiq 

syntax and logic 

‘They make themselves old (season themselves) in morphology, syntax and logic 

(in Arabic).’ 

bê zar u xet u xwendin, li nav xelk-ê (CX3:6) 

without language and script and literacy into people-EZ.M 

dewar-in 

herd=COP.PRS.3PL 

‘We, the herd of people are without language, script and ability to read.’ 

Example (348) visually represents this chiasmus. 

(348) religious leaders 

aspects of language (in Arabic) 

aspects of language (in Northern Kurdish) 

common people 

5.4.1.5 Neologisms 

Adams (1997:131) states that neologisms “are the creative acts of diction, the 

minting of new words.” Sometimes a new word may be a combination of two words or a

206 

variation on an existing word (Adams 1997:132). I did not find a single neologism in the 

poems of this corpus. While analyzing the poems, I sometimes thought that I had found a 

newly created word. However, I eventually learned through a native speaker that the 

word was known by speakers of Northern Kurdish. Adams (1997) also writes, “poets 

have a legacy of such creations, often quite memorable.” I must remind the reader how 

small this corpus is, and that the poems selected for analysis are only a subset of those 

collected. A greater inventory of Northern Kurdish poetry would be needed before 

determining whether or not poets are using neologisms for expressing ideas in their 

poetry. 

5.4.1.6 Shortened phrases 

In the following examples, words or word combinations were shortened, probably 

to help the poet meet a desired number of syllables. The missing parts are in parentheses. 

In (349), the command were, ‘come,’ is missing the final vowel, e. No resource that I 

have seen mentions wer as a short form of were. Nor have I personally observed its usage 

in everyday conversation. Even if wer is spoken, it is not the form common to literature. 

Sindî would therefore be using a colloquial term in his poem. In (350), the word ji takes 

on the meaning of ji ber or ji ber hindê, ‘because.’ It does not mean what ji typically 

means in isolation, a preposition meaning ‘from, of, out of, made of.’ 

(349) wer(e) bi-xuîn-in ey heval-an ayet-a xuş (BS1:38) 

come.IMP.SG IRR-read.PRS-IMP.PL O friend-OBL.PL verse-EZ.F good 

hîmet-ê 

effort-OBL.F 

‘Come, read, O friends, with us the (poetic) verse of good effort.’ 

(350) kew-ek bu-Ø lê ne-çu-Ø rav-ê (MT:11) 

partridge-INDF COP.PST-3SG but NEG-go.PST-3SG hunting-OBL.F 

ji (ber) kewgiran 143 ne-kew_gir bu-Ø 

because hunter not-partridge_catcher COP.PST-3SG 

‘He was a partridge but he didn’t go hunting because for the hunters this partridge 

143 Literally ‘partridge hunter.’

207 

is not a hunter.’ 144 

5.5 Summary 

In this chapter I analyzed the corpus of poems in Appendix A on two levels. On 

the phonological level, I discussed verse forms (§ 5.3.1), syllable count (§ 5.3.2) and 

various types of rhyme (§ 5.3.3). A couple of the more uncommon findings include an 

innovative form for rhymed verse (§ 5.3.1.4), multisyllabic rhyming sequence 

(§ 5.3.3.1.3), and the presence of consonant and vowel feature rhyme (§ 5.3.3.1.5). On the 

syntactic level, I demonstrated that Northern Kurdish poets sometimes deviate from 

normal constituency order at both the sentence and phrasal levels (§ 5.4.1.1). I also 

discussed instances of ellipsis, some of which are natural in the language (§ 5.4.1.2). In 

some situations, discussed in § 5.4.1.3, a poet was found to have capitalized on certain 

freedoms in the language, such as the placement of an adverbial clause. In other 

situations, I conjectured that I found instances where poets utilized a word from a 

subdialect of Northern Kurdish that is likely outside their particular area―that is, outside 

their own spoken language. In § 5.4.1.4 where I discuss constructional schemes, the 

dialogue is dominated by instances of repetition. I also provide in this section examples 

of parallelism, a less common feature in Northern Kurdish poetry. Lastly, I discuss the 

issues of neologism (§ 5.4.1.5) and shortened phrases (§ 5.4.1.6). The analysis as the 

whole provides the reader with many insights concerning poetic features in Northern 

Kurdish poetry. 

144 A partridge hunter uses a patridge to catch other partridges.

6. Application and concluding remarks 

In this chapter, I apply what I have learned through the analysis in Chapter 5 to 

the translation of a short poem into Northern Kurdish, specifically, the Bahdini 

subdialect, while also drawing from § 2.2 on translating poetry. The poem I chose to 

translate is Allah by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807-1882). I was not able to 

ascertain why Longfellow chose the name Allah, the Arabic word for ‘God.’ The poem 

Allah was appreciated enough by George Whitefield Chadwick (1854-1931) that he set it 

to music and published the song in 1887 (Chadwick 1887:2, 3). I thought the poem ideal 

to translate as it was written in quatrains, similar to verse forms found in the Neoclassical 

poems in the corpus. Additionally, I liked the subject matter of the poem and 

found the content and grammar simple enough for producing a translation. 

My reasoning for translating Allah into verse form is two-fold. First, after 

considering what others have said about translating verse poetry―specifically, those 

mentioned in § 2.2―I find myself in agreement with Holmes (1988), Thorley (1920), von 

Willamowitz-Moellendorff (1992), Boerger (1997 and 2009) and others who would 

prefer to see the metapoem matched to an appropriate form in the receptor language. This 

was what Holmes proposed in the discussion of his meta-literature model, presented in 

Figure 1 in § 2.2.4.1, where options for interpretation of a poem are scaled against options 

for poetic translations. In this model, the metapoem lies at the intersection of 

interpretation and poetry. The closest interpretation option is the production of a prose 

translation. This option was considered by Holmes to be insufficient, because a strictly 

prose translation―as opposed to prose poetry―is not poetry. On the other side of the 

metapoem is the imitation of a poem, which is viewed as being a poem, but one that 

strays too far from an ideal interpretation of the original. 

208

209 

As I see it, verse poetry depends on certain poetic devices, as does prose poetry, 

and, certainly, some of these devices are used in both styles. But to retain the poetic 

effects in the original poem, it seems logical to employ as many of the original’s poetic 

devices as possible within the translated poem, cf., Boerger’s first and second principles 

for the translation of poetry (1997:36; 2009:17), discussed in § 2.2.4.3. If the poetic 

devices in the original are inappropriate or not reproducable in the receptor language, 

then devices common to the receptor language should be employed. Such a decision 

aligns with Boerger’s fourth principle. Hence, I do not agree with Donaldson (1975), or 

Murry (1969:129), who said that “poetry should always be rendered into prose.” 

The second reason I chose to write a verse translation is the audience. While most 

writers of poetry in Northern Iraq are writing prose poems these days, I am not convinced 

that prose poetry is the style preferred by the general public. My opinion is based on the 

many conversations I had while in Northern Iraq. While some people would mention 

various prose poets during our conversations, it is the poets of the Classical and Neoclassical 

styles that received the highest praise―especially from poets themselves! I do 

wonder why most poets have so quickly abandoned the Neo-classical style. It seems to 

have developed out of a desire to leave the past behind and grab hold of everything new. 

My interview with Mihsin Quçan was most enlightening in this regard. Events over the 

last two decades have drastically changed the lives of the people of Northern Iraq. To 

write freely―in free verse―is perhaps just one of the many ways people are expressing 

their newfound freedoms. But I have opted to utilize a verse form familiar to Northern 

Kurdish speakers, believing that there is still a vast readership for poetry of the Neoclassical 

style. 

With respect to Holmes’ four approaches to verse translation, as discussed in 

§ 2.2.4.1.2, I chose to produce an “analogous form,” to translate the poem into a verse 

form known in the receptor language. I personally felt that a verse form familiar to the 

people would provide a wider readership and be well received. With consideration to 

Holmes’ “retention versus modernization” model, discussed in § 2.2.4.2, my decision was 

to retain, or “historicize,” on the verse level, but use a form common to poetry in the

210 

receptor language. With regard to the linguistic level, no attempt was made to use older 

language and every attempt was made to use pure Northern Kurdish in the translations, 

which is presently the norm among Northern Kurdish poets. These decisions may be 

viewed as modernizing on the linguistic level. Regarding the socio-cultural level, I did 

not find that the subject matter of the poem provided much opportunity for historicizing 

or modernizing. Even if there were situations that could be modernized, I would likely 

prefer to retain socio-cultural aspects of a poem, as I feel they would provide some of the 

more interesting features of the poem. Undoubtedly, some who do not believe in God 

may not appreciate the poem. But to change “God” to “It” for such an audience would 

certainly be inappropriate, as God is the central figure of the poem, and the lines speak of 

his character and intervention in the affairs of humankind. 

I was fortunate to receive the help of Perwer Shushi, a poet in her own right, who 

is actively writing in the Neo-classical style. She possesses a B.A. in journalism from an 

American university and works as a writer and editor. Though she presently lives in the 

United States, she remains very connected to her homeland in Northern Iraq. Having 

become familiar with Northern Kurdish poets from Iraq, Syria, Turkey and Europe, she 

has a profound knowledge of the language and how it differs by location. 

My work with Shushi began by providing her with my own translation of the 

poem, which tended toward being more “literal.” After making some adjustments as per 

Shushi’s recommendations, we reached the version found in (351). I will discuss this 

version before moving on to Shushi’s own translation of the poem in (352). 

6.1 My version of Allah, after Shushi’s input 

The rhyme scheme that I used in my version of the poem in (351) is AAXA, 

BBXB, CCXC, where the X line is free of end rhyme (see § 5.3.1.1). The syllable 

structure for each quatrain is 11-11-10-11. In my original version, I attempted to keep the 

syllable count consistent in every line. However, I learned from Shushi that Northern 

Kurdish poets, such as Cegerxwîn, often reduce the syllable count of the line that is free 

from end rhyme by one syllable. For the reader and listener, it gives the poem a sort of

211 

‘break,’ as Shushi described it to me. The break adds a pleasing aesthetic feature to the 

rhythm of the quatrain. This conforms to Boerger’s fourth principle, that borrowed forms 

are often modified to conform to receptor language practices (1997:37). Concerning 

rhyme, I only attempted to rhyme the final syllable of each line. If I had chosen Holmes’ 

“mimetic form” approach (§ 2.2.4.1.2), I would have applied Longfellow’s form to the 

translation, with syllable counts for the three quatrains being 7-6-7-6, 9-7-8-6, 7-6-7-6, 

and the rhyme scheme being XBXB, CDCD, XEXE. 

In the discussion that follows, I convey modifications that were made to my 

original translation (not shown) so that the reader may understand some aspects of the 

decision-making process. Some modifications were made by me while others were made 

by way of Shushi’s recommendations. 

(351) Allah gives light in darkness, 

Xwedê çira li_nav tarî-yê di-d-et 

God light in.midst.of darkness-OBL.F IMPV-give.PRS-3SG 

‘God gives light in the midst of darkness,’ 

Allah gives rest in pain, 

Xwedê aram-î li_nav derd-an di-d-et 

God rest-OBL.M in.midst.of pain-OBL.PL IMPV-give.PRS-3SG 

‘God gives rest in the midst of pain,’ 

Cheeks that are white with weeping 

Wext-ê ru spî bun ji_ber girî-yê 

when-OBL.M cheek white become because.of crying-OBL.F 

‘When cheeks become white because of crying,’ 

Allah paints red again. 

Xwedê dîsa bi sorr-î boyax di-k-et 

God again with red-OBL.M dye IMPV-do.PRS-3SG 

‘God dyes the red again.’ 

* 

The flowers and the blossoms wither, 

Gul u kulîlk-ên buhar-ê di-wêry-in, 

flower and blossom-EZ.PL spring-OBL.M IMPV-wither.PRS-3PL 

‘The flowers and blossoms of spring wither,’ 

Years vanish with flying fleet 

Hemî sal tim belez av_u_av di-ç-in

212 

every year EMPH quickly down.the.river IMPV-go.PRS-3PL 

‘Every year quickly goes down the river’ 

But my heart will live on forever, 

Belê dil-ê min dê her_u_her j-ît, 

but heart-EZ.M 1O will forever live.PRS-3SG 

‘But my heart will liver forever,’ 

That here in sadness beat 

ku li vêrê melûlî lê_da-Ø li min 

that at here sadness beat.PST-3SG in 1O 

‘that here in me sadness beats’ 

* 

Gladly to Allah's dwelling 

Bi keyfî ez dê ç-im=a mal-a Xwedê 

with happiness 1D will go.PRS-1SG=DIR home-EZ.F God 

‘With happiness I will go to the home of God’ 

Yonder would I take flight 

Ez ḧez di-k-im bi-firr-im=a li wêrê 

1D desire IMPV-do.PRS-1SG IRR-fly.PRS-1SG=DIR LOC there 

‘I desire to fly there’ 

There will the darkness vanish, 

Li wêrê tarîtî dê winda b-it 

LOC there darkness will vanish 

‘There darkness will vanish,’ 

COP.PRS-3SG 

There will my eyes have sight. 

Bînahî dê hê-t-e çav-an li qad-ê 

sight will come.FUT-3SG-DIR eye-OBL.PL in open.space-OBL.F 

‘Sight will come to the eyes in the open space.’ 

In the first quatrain, my original poem was missing the imperfective aspect 

marker, di-, on the verbs det, ‘give’ and ket, ‘do’ at the end of the first, second and fourth 

lines. Because Shushi used the aspect marker in her version, and seeing that these actions 

are indeed imperfective aspect, I added the affix. However, this put me over the syllable 

count in those lines. For the first line, Shushi recommended changing ronahî, ‘light,’ 

which has three syllables, to a synonym, çira. Regarding my use of the preposition(s) li 

nav, Shushi agreed that it was correct but also said that I could have used di nav…da. Use 

of the circumposition di nav…da would have provided the same meaning, but would have 

increased the syllable count by one.

213 

In the second line, we had multiple options for the words for ‘rest’ and ‘pain,’ and 

so the decisions were not difficult. In order to reduce the syllable count, I changed tenahî, 

‘rest,’ to Shushi’s suggestion, aram. In the third line of the quatrain, we were left in a 

quandary after adding the required feminine oblique ending, -yê, to the final word girî, 

‘crying,’ for the syllable count was now too great. I inquired about changing bune spî, 

‘become white,’ which was utilizing the directional enclitic (DIR), e, on bun, to simply 

bun spî. Shushi replied that people do not always speak the e enclitic, so that would work. 

I also asked if there was a difference between the order: bun spî and spî bun. She said that 

in this instance, spî sounds nicer before bun, though both are grammatically correct. With 

spî before bun, the directional enclitic is not an option. Lastly, in the fourth line, Shushi 

recommended using the verb boyax diket, ‘dye.’ This made more sense to her than the 

literal translation of the verb sibiẍ diket, ‘paint.’ Boyax diket is the verb used by women 

when putting henna on their skin, or for dying cloth. 

In the second quatrain, I needed more syllables in the first line and chose to add 

the word buhar, ‘spring.’ It seemed an appropriate addition since the blossoms and 

flowers of the spring months are the ones that vanish quickly. The addition does not 

really take away anything, nor add much, to the overall image of the line, and 

corresponds to Boerger’s eighth principle discussed in § 2.2.4.3, which allows for 

adjustments in word choices to accomodate the form (2009:17), in this case the number 

of syllables per line. Shushi also provided me with the word for ‘wither,’ diwêryin, a 

word which was not in my dictionaries. In the second line of the quatrain, I struggled to 

find enough syllables. I settled for the use of an idiom, av u av diçin, which I found in the 

translation of Hisin Silêvanî’s poem Ew Xanîma Henê, ‘That Woman.’ This decision 

accords with Boerger’s sixth principle (1997:38), which allows for the alteration or 

insertion of target langauge metaphorical imagery, as long as meaning is preserved. This 

idiom is a metaphor for something that quickly ‘disappears’ by falling into a river and

214 

quickly floating away downstream. 145 As Shushi did not argue for its removal, I left it in 

because of the number of syllables it provided compared to alternatives. Needing one 

more syllable for the line, Shushi recommended using an emphatic word tim, a word I 

was not familiar with. Chyet (2003) lists tim as meaning ‘always’ and ‘often, frequently.’ 

However, a friend of mine affirmed Shushi’s explanation saying, “It is a rather poetic 

word just used for emphasis―no more, no less.” I also had the option of using the words 

gelek zî, ‘very fast,’ in place of belez, ‘quickly,’ as gelek zî offers an additional syllable. 

Having this option is ideal in case the idiom that I used needs to be changed. 

For the third line of the second quatrain, I had an option of using either habît, 

‘exist,’ or jît, ‘live.’ Shushi felt that both words convey the same meaning in this 

sentence. Having changed to a 10-syllable count for the third line in each quatrain―the 

non-rhyming line―I chose to use jît over habît. Also, regarding syllable count, I was able 

to use belê, ‘but,’ as opposed to lê, which also means ‘but.’ If I wanted to change the verb 

to habît, whatever the reason, I would be able to use lê to retain the syllable count. 

In Northern Kurdish, there is one characteristic of the language that can be either 

helpful or challenging for the metapoet. Verbs naturally come at the end of a sentence, 

the general constituent order being SOV (see § 4.4.1.2). When the person, number and 

tense remain consistent, the verb endings naturally rhyme. Prepositional phrases that 

might naturally occur after a verb can often be moved to another location in the sentence, 

as discussed in § 5.4.1.3.7. However, if a change occurs with the person, number or tense, 

the ending on the verb changes and some other means for rhyming the line must be 

found. Such is the situation in the final line of the second quatrain. Not only does the 

number change for this line but also the tense of the verb. After much discussion about 

this line, we decided to retain, from my original translation, the prepositional phrase li 

min, ‘in me,’ at the end for the rhyme. Lacking words to correctly describe the beating of 

a heart, Shushi offered lê da, which literally means ‘strike, hit, beat.’ It is a word people 

145 I would need to ask more native speakers to make sure usage of this idiom is appropriate for the given 

context.

215 

use to describe a situation where the heart beats faster than normal, such as being scared 

or shocked. However, Shushi feels that the line, while understandable, comes across as a 

bit awkward. As we will see in Shushi’s version of the poem, more creativity may need to 

be employed. Lastly, I should mention that ku in this line is required, not optional, as is 

often the case (see § 5.4.1.3.5). 

In the first line of the final quatrain, I needed more syllables and chose to use a 

verb çim, ‘I go,’ which is used to express what will happen to the soul after death. I also 

included the subject pronoun ez, 1D, which does not need to be included (see § 5.4.1.2.1 

on anaphoric subject pronoun ellipsis). I also inclused the directional enclitic, a. In the 

second line, I had begun with min divêt, ‘I want.’ However, needing another 

syllable―and desiring something more expressive to capture the sense of ‘would’ in this 

line, which is being used to express intention or inclination―Shushi recommended ez ḧez 

dikim, ‘I desire,’ which provides a bit of the emotive element that was missing. 

Struggling to find a rhyme to end this line, I moved li werê, ‘there,’ to the end (see 

§ 5.4.1.3.7), settling for the similarity between the consonants r and d in wêrê and Xwedê, 

‘God.’ The sounds represented by the letters r and d are produced at the same alveolar 

place of articulation, and both are voiced. The only difference is the manner of 

articulation; one is a flap and the other a plosive, respectfully. This is similar to the sound 

play discussed in § 5.3.3.1.3 on multisyllabic rhyming sequence. 

In the third line, Shushi was able to provide me an alternate word for ‘darkness,’ 

taritî, which has one more syllable than tarî, the word I had used. She also recommended 

using winda bit for ‘vanish,’ as she was not familiar with the word I used from Chyet’s 

(2003) dictionary. The final line of the poem was very difficult to rhyme. I had settled for 

bînahîyê, ‘sight.’ However, after working with Shushi, we decided to change the line by 

making ‘sight’ the subject, and Shushi came up with the word qad, which means ‘field’ 

or ‘open space.’ With the feminine oblique ending, -ê, qadê would rhyme with Xwedê. 

The image has been changed slightly, which is advocated by Boerger in her sixth 

principle regarding metaphorical imagery (1997:38). But, even though the qad is 

metaphorical here, it still conveys the central image―that when one is finally with God,

216 

sight will be free, without life’s limitations. One may simply view the added 

metaphorical imagery as an explication of the original image. 

Overall, both Shushi and I were pleased with the end result in (351). The 

translation can be said to be a true metapoem, remains close to the original, and in no 

place does it stray enough to be considered an imitation. Perhaps a couple lines slightly 

qualify for a “creative translation.” However, the use of a couple explications and an 

idiom are certainly within the bounds of what a metapoet―as defined by Holmes (1988), 

Boerger (1997, 2009) and others―is permitted to do when producing a metapoem. 

6.2 Shushi’s version of Allah 

For her version of Allah, shown in (352), Shushi (2012) chose to use the same 

verse form that I had used for my more “literal” version: AAXA, BBXB, CCXC. Her 

syllable structure for each quatrain is 12-12-11-12. As mentioned, in this verse form 

Shushi prefers to reduce the number of syllables in the third line―the line free from 

rhyme―by one, a common poetic device of Northern Kurdish poets. One particularly 

nice feature about Shushi’s version is that she produced end rhymes with two syllables, 

which provides a nicer reading than my version which rhymes only one syllable. I should 

also mention that Shushi did not make her own version “from scratch,” but, having read 

and provided feedback on my version, she created a more readable, better sounding 

poem. Hence, Shushi’s version exhibits similar features of my version. She used an 

“analogous form,” as discussed in § 2.2.4.1.2. In relation to Holmes’ “retention versus 

modernization” model, she chose to historicize on the level of verse form and modernize 

on linguistic level. Regarding the socio-cultural level, the subject matter did not provide 

many features for historicizing or modernizing. 

(352) Allah gives light in darkness, 

Xwedê ruhnî-yê li_nav tarî-yê di-d-et 

God light-EZ.M in.midst.of darkness-OBL.F IMPV-give.PRS-3SG 

‘God gives light in the midst of darkness’ 

Allah gives rest in pain, 

Xwedê aram-î li_nav jarî-yê di-d-et

217 

God rest-OBL.M in.midst.of misery-OBL.F IMPV-give.PRS-3SG 

‘God gives rest in the midst of misery.’ 

Cheeks that are white with weeping 

Ew rûy-ên spî buîn ji_ber girîyan-ê 

Those cheek-EZ.PL white become.PST-3PL because.of crying-OBL.F 

‘Those cheeks that became white because of crying’ 

Allah paints red again. 

Xwedê bi reng-ê sorr dişan rewşen di-k-et 

God with color-EZ.M red again illuminate IMPV-make.PRS-3SG 

‘God illuminates with the color of red again.’ 

* 

The flowers and the blossoms wither, 

Gul û kulîlk-ên buhar-ê her di-weş-in 

flower and blossom-EZ.PL spring all IMPV-wither.PRS-3PL 

‘The flowers and blossoms of spring all wither,’ 

Years vanish with flying fleet 

Sal tim berze di-b-in u bi lez di-meş-in 

year always vanish IMPV-be.PRES-3PL and with haste IMPV-go.PRS-3PL 

‘Years always vanish and go with haste.’ 

But my heart will live on forever, 

Lê dil u can-ê min dê her_u_her jît-Ø 

but heart-EZ.M and soul-EZ.M 1O will forever live.PRS-3SG 

‘But my heart and soul will live forever, 

That here in sadness beat 

Her_çende birîn-ên dil-ê min ne_xweş=in 

although wound-EZ.PL heart-EZ.M 1O trying=COP.PRS.3PL 

‘Although the wounds in my heart are trying.’ 

* 

Gladly to Allah's dwelling 

Bi keyf û xweşî(-î) bo mal-a Xwedê dê ç-im 

with happiness and pleasure(-OBL.M) to home-EZ.F God 

‘With happiness and pleasure I will go to the home of God’ 

Yonder would I take flight 

pêtivî=ye bu min li wêrê bi-firr-im 

necessary=COP.3SG for me LOC there IRR-fly.PRS-1SG 

‘It is necessary for me to fly there’ 

There will the darkness vanish, 

(Li) wêrê tarî-ya jîn-ê dê winda b-it 

will go.PRS-1SG

218 

(LOC) there darkness-EZ.F life-OBL.F will vanish COP.PRS-3SG 

‘There the darkness of life will vanish,’ 

There will my eyes have sight. 

(Li) wêrê çav-an dê vek-im, çi_car na gir-im 

(LOC) there eye-OBL.PL will open.PRS-1SG, never NEG close.PRS-1SG 

‘There I will open the eyes, I will never close them.’ 

I initially thought that the first line of Shushi’s version was lacking a syllable. 

However, the h in ruhnîyê is actually pronounced as a separate syllable, even though the 

word is usually not written as ruhinîyê, with an i after the h. Concerning the second line, 

Shushi used the word jarî, which she described as ‘misery,’ for the translation of ‘pain.’ 

The word jarî may be viewed as a slight improvement in the poem, as ‘misery’ perhaps 

adds an emotional element to the type of ‘pain’ that requires ‘rest,’ whereas the first thing 

one may think when hearing the English word ‘pain’ in Longfellow’s version is physical 

pain. 

Instead of making the third line a dependent clause, as I had done, Shushi kept it 

as the object of the fourth line, beginning the line with the determiner ew, ‘those.’ This 

actually keeps the phrasing closer to the original, which is not an issue, as the syntax also 

works very nicely in Northern Kurdish. Also, it is worth noting that Shushi’s word for 

‘crying,’ girîyan, is synonymous with the word for ‘crying’ in my version, girî. Shushi 

used both words in her upbringing and does not discern any difference between them. In 

the final line of the quatrain, Shushi gained two syllables by saying rengê sorr, ‘red 

color,’ as opposed to simply sorr, ‘red,’ which is what I used in my more literal version. 

By doing so she gained two syllables. Another change in this line is the word rewşan, 

‘illuminate,’ which Shushi felt was more poetic than my literal boyaẍ, ‘dye.’ Rewşan, a 

very positive image, also connects nicely with ‘light’ in the first line of the quatrain— 

another application of Boerger’s sixth principle (1997:38). 

In the first line of the second quatrain, Shushi added the word her ‘all,’ which is 

simply an explication of implied information in the original. She also used diweşin for 

‘whither,’ which is a synonym for the word she recommended for my version. In the 

second line, she used the emphatic tim (see § 6.1). To express ‘flying fleet’ she decided to

219 

create an independent clause, joining it to the first clause with the conjunction û, ‘and.’ I 

appreciate this creativity of Shushi―to translate the event of ‘flying fleet’ into the 

prepositional phrase bi lez, ‘with haste,’ and the verb meş, another word for ‘go.’ Though 

she changed the syntax, she retained the basic meaning being conveyed. 

In the third line of the second quatrain, Shushi gained needed syllables by 

expanding ‘heart’ to include the can, ‘soul.’ This reminds me of Sindî’s use of the two 

nouns jîn, ‘life,’ and hîvî, ‘hope,’ to represent one basic idea in Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya, 

‘The Door of Life and Hopes,’―that idea being “everything good.” In Longfellow’s 

poem, ‘heart’ represents the part of a person that lives after death. Hence, can, ‘soul,’ 

may rightly be viewed as an explication of the metaphoric meaning of ‘heart.’ Also, note 

that Shushi used lê for ‘but’ instead of belê. She also had the option, as I did, to use habît, 

‘exist,’ or jît, ‘live.’ For Shushi, both verbs would provide the same meaning. 

In the final line of this quatrain, Shushi decided to change the image, as it was 

difficult to convey Longfellow’s image in Northern Kurdish (see the discussion of my 

version of the poem in § 6.1). Shushi’s decision is in concord with Boerger’s sixth 

principle, which was introduced previously. I had to speak with Shushi a second time 

about the image she chose, as the literal translation of nexweş ‘not well,’ which would 

seemingly convey some redundancy in the line. Obviously, a ‘wound,’ the new image, is 

something that is ‘not well.’ The issue here had to do with the meaning of nexweş, which, 

according to Shushi takes on a different meaning in this context. Shushi thought that the 

English word ‘trying’ or ‘difficult to bear’ conveyed the sense of nexweş in this use of the 

word. So, still utilizing the extension of the heart image represented in ‘beat,’ Shushi 

settled for an alternate image to convey the situation of the present life, the life bound to a 

failing human body―but a life that still can experience the hope of eternity with God. 

In the first line of the final quatrain, Shushi expanded the idea of ‘gladly’ by 

adding to keyf, ‘happiness,’ the word xweşî, ‘pleasure,’ therein gaining some syllables. 

She gained another syllable by means of the conjunction u, ‘and.’ She also chose to end 

the line with a verb, moving the GOAL―the prepositional phrase bo mala Xwedê, ‘to the 

home of God’―before the future word dê, ‘will.’ Recall from § 4.4.1.2 that the normal

220 

constituent order of Northern Kurdish puts the GOAL after the verb. This change in 

location of the prepositional phrase, discussed in § 5.4.1.3.7, allowed her to more easily 

rhyme lines two and four, as both lines are also in the first person, singular present tense. 

I must also note that this is the only line in her poem that does not have a two-syllable 

rhyme. Concerning syllable count, Shushi had the option to utilize the anaphoric subject 

pronoun ez, 1D, which may be left unuttered due to context (see § 5.4.1.2.1). However, she 

did not need the word as she had already reached her desired syllable count. 

In the second line, Shushi again put a GOAL prepositional phrase, li wêrê, ‘there,’ 

before the verb. By ending the first line with the verb, she was able to more easily rhyme 

the end of the line. The situation is the same for the final line of the quatrain. Also notice 

that she used the prepositional phrase bu min, ‘for me,’ in lieu of the subject ez, ‘I,’ which 

is an optional syntactic shift in the language (see § 5.4.1.1.12). Using bu min also added 

another syllable to the line. She also retained the image of flying with use of the word 

bifirrim, ‘I fly.’ Recall that the second line in the previous quatrain utilized a flying 

image in ‘flying fleet.’ Perhaps Longfellow intentionally juxtaposed these two lines by 

means of the flying image. In one the years are taken from us; in the other we, like our 

years, will go to the one who possesses years and time. 

In the final two lines, Shushi left off the locative preposition li, ‘at,’ on wêrê, 

‘there,’ at the beginning of both lines, as use of it would have given her too many 

syllables in each line. Recall from § 5.4.1.2.7 that the ellipsis of a preposition was found 

in one instance in the corpus. In the third line, she expanded ‘darkness’ to tarîya jînê, 

‘darkness of life,’ which seems to simply explicate via her interpretation that the darkness 

is the “general” unknown things and difficult, perhaps evil things, of this life. In the final 

line of the poem, Shushi expands the notion of God giving sight upon death by affirming 

the eternal nature of the act with çi car nagirim, ‘never I (will) close (them).’ The subject 

of this clause is the first person, singular. The object is çavan, ‘eyes,’ which is understood 

as being the poet’s eyes, without use of the referent pronoun min, 1O. In this line, Shushi 

has left the modifier ‘my’ implied, which is perfectly acceptable given the context. And

221 

instead of using a word for ‘sight,’ as I did in my more literal version, she changed the 

verb to vekim, ‘open,’ as opposed to using the possessive verb ‘have.’ 

Shushi’s poem in (352) certainly has more appeal than my version in (351), which 

is to be expected by an ideal translator of poetry. The receptor language is Shushi’s native 

tongue, and given her years in the US and level of education, she fulfills the requirement 

that a good metapoet know the source language very well. Shushi also fulfills the third 

ideal requirement of a metapoet: she herself is a poet. In the discussion of her poem, I 

have shown that many of the poetic devices she employed were also employed by poets 

represented in the corpus. Other translation decisions were found to be in accord with 

Boerger’s (1997, 2009) principles for translating poetry. Her decision to change the 

image in the line, “that here in sadness beat”―line 4 of the second quatrain―may be 

considered by some to be too free and, therefore, an imitation. However, given the 

difficulty in translating the line, I personally feel that she conveyed much of the sense of 

the original and that her translation of the line should be considered, minimally, a 

“creative” translation. The poem as a whole is a true metapoem, bearing the hallmark of a 

poet. 

6.3 Concluding remarks 

The purpose of this thesis was to analyze a body of Northern Kurdish poetry, 

identify poetic features contained therein―consisting of variants from normal 

speech―and apply what has been learned to the translation of poetry into Northern 

Kurdish. The process of choosing poems for the corpus presented opportunities to 

interview three poets and an editor of poetry. These interviews allowed me to gain an 

emic view on Northern Kurdish poetry, which added important information to the study. 

Noteworthy findings include the following: On the phonological level, I identified 

several types of rhyme, including multisyllabic rhyming sequence (see § 5.3.3.1.3), where 

multiple syllables are rhymed. I also identified instances of consonant and vowel feature 

rhyme―where poets capitalized on the similarities between consonants and vowels when 

forming end rhymes (see § 5.3.3.1.5). Allowance for the use of such poetic devices

222 

expands the poet’s range of possible choices. I also identified a situation where a poet 

intentionally changed the normal syntax so that the final word in the line would be 

dissimilar to the end rhyme of the other lines in the quatrain. While the decision of the 

poet to change the order was phonologically motivated, the device employed was 

syntactic, which is why I placed the discussion in the syntactic section of the paper (see 

§ 5.4.1.1.11). On the syntactic level, every possible deviation from normal SOV constituent 

order was found except for verb initial phrases (with declared subjects). The only verb 

initial phrases were two imperative clauses where the subject is naturally not declared. 

For equative and attributive clauses, there were no instances where a copula followed the 

subject when the subject was placed after an adjective phrase or noun phrase (see 

§ 5.4.1.1). Regarding ellipsis (§ 5.4.1.2), it was discovered that it is the use of anaphoric 

pronouns that is a tool for the poet, as pronoun ellipsis is often permitted because of the 

language’s rules concerning participant reference. Other instances of ellipsis exhibited 

freedoms taken by the poets. In § 5.4.1.3 on free variation, we saw how poets varied word 

usage by utilizing more than one word form. Potentially, poets capitalized on the 

language of other subdialects of Northern Kurdish―spoken language having minor 

differences from their own―for these variations. More research is needed on this subject 

before drawing any conclusions. 

The whole of this analysis reveals numerous variations that are found in poetic 

language. While most of these poetic devices were utilized by Neo-classical poets, some 

continue to be employed by modern poets. One poem in the corpus worth highlighting is 

Şaban Silêman’s Gutgutik, ‘Rumors,’ which is a modern poem that utilizes end rhyme, a 

poetic device that was not employed in any of the other modern poems in the corpus; nor 

have I seen it in any other modern poems I have read. Due to Silêman’s immense 

popularity in Northern Iraq, it would be worthwhile to conduct a more extensive analysis 

of his poetry to see to what degree he uses end rhyme and, perhaps, other poetic devices 

identified in the analysis in Chapter 5. 

The analysis and its application have provided an initial step in the study of 

Northern Kurdish poetry and has at least partially answered the question, as concerns

223 

poetic language: “What is possible?” As Kurds continue to write and expand their literary 

culture, they may also desire to increase the number of translated works from other 

cultures. My hope is that this study will be useful to them in accomplishing this task. This 

study may also be useful to researchers of other Indo-Iranian languages. 

Concerning the translation of older texts, one wonders what type of translation 

Kurdish people would prefer. Most writers of today are writing in the modern style. 

However, after speaking with many Kurds about poetry, I am not convinced that modern 

poetry is the preference of the general public. As discussed in § 2.2, there are many other 

considerations in producing a metapoem. If, say, a Kurdish metapoet was writing for a 

wide readership and wanted to translate a poem by Rumi, a famous Persian poet of the 

13 th century, it would seem practical and necessary to answer this question: What type of 

translation will my readers want? I look forward to continuing my research in Northern 

Kurdish poetry to help answer such questions.

Appendix A – The Corpus of Northern Kurdish Poems 

The following poems were gathered during the Fall of 2009. The translations 

were produced by various native speakers in Northern Iraq. Light revisions for clarify and 

readability were made as I interacted with native speakers in the USA. The poems are 

listed in alphabetic order according to the acronym assigned. 

224

225 

AN1 

by Ahmed Nalbend 

translated by Ibrahim S. Abdullatif 

Duhî Spêdê Liser Banî 

Yesterday Morning On The Rooftop 

Duhî spêdê liser banî, 

Yesterday morning on the rooftop, 

Me dît canek ji xew rabû. 

We saw a beauty rise from sleeping (wake up). 

Ji mal derket derê xanî. 

She left the house by the front door. 

Me texmîn kir Zuleyxa 146 bû. 

We thought she was a Zuleyxa. 

Zuleyxa bu sîfet hûrî. 5 

It was Zuleyxa, the looks of a hûrî. 147 

Wekî tîrê ji merra bûrî. 

Like an arrow she passed us. 

Çû ser avê li rexê jûrî; 

She went to the water (river/stream) by way of above; 

Wekî rrojê limin ava bû. 

Like the sun she set (disappeared). 

Dema zivrî ji ser avê, 

When she came back from the water, 

Me dît lêda ji nû tavê. 10 

We saw the sun hit upon her anew. 

146 In the Qur’an, Zuleyxa was the wife of Pharoah who loved the prophet Joseph. 

147 Heavenly wife in the Qur’an.

226 

Miqabil çûme hindavê. 

Facing (her) I went above her (to look). 

Qere puşî girê dabû. 

She had tied her cumberbun. 

Wekî tavê libejnê da, 

As the sun stroke her stature, 

Me dît şubhî gula spêda. 

We saw bloom the morning flower. 

Wesa geş bu dinav rrêda. 15 

She was so radiant on the way (path) 

Çû hal bu min nehêla bû. 

She went; left me feeling crazy (high love/sexual emotion). 

Nehêla bo kesê halek. 

She didn’t leave anyone in peace (made everyone crazy) 

Deqîqe li min bibûn salek. 

Minutes became a year. 

Li enya wê hebû xalek; 

On her forehead there was a freckle; 

Xudê heq taze kêşa bû. 20 

God chose a fine place for that freckle. 

Xudê suret muneqiqeş kir, 

God made decorative caligraphic verse, 

Du zulfa liser rruya reş kir. 

Two black braids on her cheeks. 

Enî gul bû şevê geş kir; 

The forehead was a flower; at night it glowed; 

Siḧarê zû xunav dabû. 

Early in the morning it gave dew. 

Xunavê terr kirin sunbul; 25 

The dew made the bud of a flower;

227 

Siḧarê xîv bi bûn sor gul. 

In the morning the bloom had become a red-colored flower. 

Li min sot sing u cerg u dil; 

My chest and liver and heart in me were burnt; 

Ji mêlaka me xûn za bû. 

From our liver sprang blood. 

Ji mêlaka me xûn derkir. 

From our liver blood poured out. 

Ewê dil bir ceger ker kir. 30 

She took the heart and broke apart the liver. 

Miqabil me xûn liber anber kir. 

In front of us the blood was weighed. 

Şil u mil ew muheîya bû! 

Beautiful―she was alive! 

Şil u mil bû hemî gava, 

Beautiful―she was all time, 

Kilê rreş her tijî cava. 

Eyes filled with black mascara. 

Dilê min teyre ket dava; 35 

My heart is an eagle fallen into a trap; 

Ewê tîra xu lêda bû. 

She had stricken with her arrow. 

Leşê min kefte berjanê. 

My body fell into pain. 

Du sê aviro bilez danê. 

Two, three glances were quickly given to it. 

Dirêj bûm ez li kulanê, 

I layed down in the alley. 

Li hîvîya min newesta bû. 40

228 

She had not waited for me. 

Epsîyar kir li vî lawî, 

Questioned of this handsome (man), 

Tu saxî yan tu wê 148 tawî? 

Are you healthy or sick (feverish)? 

Çi dermane leşê bawî? 

What medicine is there for the winded body? 

Qîamet hat limin rrabû. 

Doomsday came (and) overcame me. 

Li min ḧelîan leş u hestî. 45 

My flesh and bone melted. 

Me gut mare ezê geztî! 

We thought it’s a snake that has bitten me. 

Bi remza bazinêt destî. 

By means of the signal of the hand bracelets. 

Ewê qebrê me kula bû. 

She had dug our grave. 

Ji zendê spî çiringêne, 

From (her) white forearm, the sound of metal bracelets hitting each other, 

Nizanim dewleta kêne . 50 

I don’t know what country she is from. 

Hemî kes ‘aşiqêt wêne; 

Everyone is in love with her; 

Lewa min leş tijî tabû. 

That is why my body was filled with fever. 

Şekir barî ji deq u lêva. 

Sugar flowed from the lips and tattoo (on her chin). 

148 In speaking a person usually says ‘yê.’ However, ‘wê’ is used in poetry.

229 

Memik sor bûn wekî sêva. 

The breasts became red like apples. 

Hema çu kes neaxêva. 55 

She left without speaking to anyone. 

Hewar 149 u sed hewar babû! 

Oh my! and a hundred oh my’s, father! 

Hewar ez ‘aşqê wême! 

Oh my! I am in love with her! 

Me dil beḧira tijî kême. 

Our heart is an ocean full of puss (water of a wound). 

Biken pisyar li ḧalê me; 

Ask of our condition; 

Beḧalê me neḧesya bû. 60 

She was unaware of our condition. 

Evê canê gelek kuştin. 

This beauty killed many. 

Ji mal u qûwetê rriştin. 

Spilled them of their wealth and energy. 

Zikên qebira ji wan miştin. 

Bellies of graves are full of them. 

Bela bû ew Xudê da bû. 

Trouble was, God created her. 

Xudê kir bû bela bûme. 65 

God made her a problem for us. 

Belê bê qeyde bê lûme. 

But it is an unnecessary complaint. 

Nebêjin ez tinê hûme. 

Don’t say I am the only one like this. 

149 A call for help.

230 

Eve fexra me hemya bû. 

This was the pride of all of us. 

Eve fexra me Kurdane― 

This is the pride of the Kurds― 

Bihara deşt u zozane, 70 

She is the spring of plains and wilderness, 

Kulîlka pîr u lawane 

She is the flower of the old and the young 

Ku dermana me xesta bû. 

Which was the medicine for us who were sick. 

Evê tîrek limin daye 

She struck me with an arrow; 

Leşê min her tijî taye. 

My body is filled with fever. 

Herê ma kê riḧek maye 75 

Oh say, who has a soul left (remaining) 

Ku wê çav pê helîna bû? 

Upon whom she has gazed? 

Mejî ruh ço çi xem nîne. 

Brain and soul left without sorrow. 

Gelek şibhî me kuştîne. 

She killed many like us. 

Beyan ke, Ehmed, ew kîne? 

Explain, Ehmed, who are they? 

Me got, behsê Dihokya bû. 80 

We said, they were Dohukees.

231 

AN2 



Xoşe Wekî Cenetê 

It’s Wonderful Like Heaven 

Xoşe wekî cennetê, 

It’s wonderful like heaven, 

Ev cihê Kurda yeqîn. 

This place of the Kurds indeed. 

Qable bo lezetê 

Capable for providing pleasure 

Germ u nerm u baş hîn 

Warm and pleasant and cool 

Mêrg u çîmen com u av 5 

Orchards and meadows, com 150 and water 

Rewneq u zax u hetav 

Shine and brightness and sunlight 

Sal u meh u gav bi gav 

Year and month and moment by moment 

Mu’tedil u her bijwîn 

Steady and always alive 

Tazeye lê xoş bihar 

A nice spring in it is beautiful 

Baẍ u rez u darubar 10 

Garden and orchard and forest 

Cinsê kulîlka hizar 

A thousand species of flowers 

150 Meaning unknown.

232 

Gav u dema sûr u şîn 

Moment and time red and blue 

Zwîr u girî bin tiraş 

Hilly terrain and crying underneath bushes 

Yaze letîf xuş u baş 

Yaze 151 beautiful, wonderful and good 

Libsê çîaî qumaş 15 

Clothes of the mountain fabric (cloth) 

Dil vekere nazenîn 

Heart is opening gracefully 

Kêrî şîv u nihal 

Valley (small) and valley (smaller) 

Ser gir u rêhil wirwal 

On top of the hill and rough path 

Kehnî avin zelal 

Clear-watered springs 

Sar u sivik tam şirîn 20 

Cold and light, sweet-tasting 

Deşt u nizar u beten 

Deserts and shady side of mountain and hill (hill front, not the whole hill) 

Bêna beḧeşîê diden 

They give aroma of paradise 

Kê heye hu xuş weten? 

Who has such a beautiful country? 

Kamile dinya u dîn 

It’s complete (full), earth and religion 

Kurd delalin u beşuş 25 


233 

Kurds are dear and happy 

Dîn persin ‘erd xuş 

Religion worshipers, wonderful land 

Jin bi ḧeya perdepuş 

The women (are) respectful, (wearing) headscarfs 

Ehlê dil u ẍem revîn 

Residents of heart and from sorrow flee 

Lawin u can xas u ’am 

They’re beautiful and pretty, specific and generally 

Keys u fesalek temam 30 

Chance and opportunity complete 

Rast bejin xuş zelam 

Straight stature and good men 

Layqê wan ḧuru ‘în 

They’re deserving of those heavenly wives 

Ax u hewa u gîa 

Earth and wind and grass 

Cehwer u rengê çîa 

Beauty and mountain color 

Taze wesa dil vîa 35 

The heart wanted them beautiful like that 

Ev wetenê dil ḧebîn 

This country that embraces/nourishes the heart 

Ev wetenê hu spehî 

This country so beautiful 

Wesif u kemal muntehî 

Looks and beauty complete (perfect) 

Wek te hebît agehî 

Like you there should be interest

234 

Şêr u piling lê şihîn 40 

Lions and tigers are active (love life) on it 

Ev cihe pir zax u nur 

This place is full of brightness and light 

Kesk u zer u al u sur 

Green and yellow and flag and red 

Nîne wesa bê qusur 

There isn’t anyplace flawless like this 

Misr u Yemen Hindî Çîn 

Egypt and Yemen, India and China 

Kurdê cesed sax u bisit 152 45 

Brave and well and brave Kurd 

Zîrekin u xurt u çist 

They are brave and strong and nimble 

Bext u qirarek dirist 

Right luck and decisiveness 

Şerker u tîj u emîn 

Warrior and hot and (yet) trustworthy 

Sîng u ber u gerdena 

Chest and face and necks 

Xastîye misk u xena 50 

In-need of perfume and henna (colorant) 

Neqşê Xudê pêvena 

The design God put upon it 

Zax u cemal tê husîn 

Brightness and beauty rubbed against it (put upon it) 

Zend u til u bask u mil 

Forearm and finger and arm and shoulder 


235 

Sutî li min cerg u dil 

My liver and heart are burnt 

Av rîl wan şêre sil 55 

Water rîl 153 them, the lion is angry 

Rengê gula ser hejîn 

Color of flowers swayed (back and forth) upon it 

Min bi eqîn sund xar 

I swore with faithfulness 

Kurdî her êk u hizar 

A Kurd to me is equal to a thousand others 

Her çî cihê lê hewar 

Any place there is a call (for help) 

Şêr ewin u sef dirrîn 60 

They are lions and they turn in lines 

Şêr ewin u xurt u mest 

They are lions and strong and stimulated (intoxicated with strong emotion) 

Ḧukum dema bête dest 

Whenever authority comes to hand (in power) 

Fîle 154 ji singî verest 

(Like) an elephant escapes from the chest 

Hatî pilingê nehîn 

It has come, the courageous tiger 

Note: The poem continues; the balance was not translated. 


154 According to Chyet (2003), one resource from MacKeznie has fil as an alternate spelling of fêl. Fêl can 

mean “action, activity, feat, deed.”

236 

AN3 



Ey Malikê Vê ‘Alemê 

O Lord Of This World (Universe) 

Ey malikê vê ‘alemê, dinya hemî milkê teye. 

O Lord of this world (universe), all the Earth is your property. 

Yek serî helîne ji vê xemê, lutfa te her kafîye. 

(If) One raises his head (in prayer) from this worrying, your blessing is enough. 

Tu her heyî dê her hebî; kes nîne tesbînî tebî. 

You’re always present and will be present; there’s no one like you 

Rebi, tu ẍefarê mebî hîvî li dergahê teye. 

O Lord, may you be our forgiver; hope only exists at your door 

Tu her heyî; em dê mirîn; dinya betal em jêk kirîn. 5 

You always exist; we will die; this empty world has torn us apart. 

Lazim şev u roja bigirîn; heqê me dayîm sucdeye. 

We should cry night and day; it’s our duty to be bowing in prayer (to you). 

Ey ‘ebid u însanîn, eman, hişyar bibin sal u zeman. 

O slaves and human kind, oh, wakeup (from) year and time (of sleep). 

Mirinê birîn em; kew neman; ḧeqe mirin rêka meye. 

Death took us; the partridges didn’t remain; it is right that death is our path. 

Rêka me her mirina bi ḧeqe; dinya betal u leq leqe. 

Our path is always the rightful death, the world is empty and shaky (out of balance) 

Kê baş vîa ew eḧmeqe (walahî) me ji wê tubeye? 10 

Who really wanted that fool? 155 By God, we ban (ourselves) from that person. 

Me ji wê bese ev saxîye ew ‘aqîbet ya fanî ye. 

Enough of that, this is health, that the end is mortal. 

155 Feeble-minded individual.

237 

Kê baş nevêt ew rûyê spî ye çunkî ḧeqîqet her weye? 

Who doesn’t really want that white cheek (honor), because truth is always right? 

Ḧeqe ku ew dar u alfina ya bi zeḧmete u renc u ‘ena. 

It is right that that wood and fodder is with difficulty and tireness and suffering. 

Teşbîhî kepirêt mewtena 156 jê barkirin şula meye. 

Similar are sheds of countries, leaving them is our job. 

Rêka meye her dê mirîn; ḧeqe liser me jê biçîn. 15 

Our path is that all will die; it is our duty to leave it. 

Ew hind ya liber me şirîn; ma em nizanîn qeḧbeye? 

To us, she is so desirable; do we not know she is a prostitute? 

‘Alem hemî wê jêk jenî; herdem be êkî ji me. 

Everybody tears her apart (plows), always (she is) with one of us. 

Paşî bu lêmişt u renî ku dujminek bi ḧîleye. 

Then it became a flood and avalanche which is a deceitful enemy. 

Kenî ew qeḧbeye ya dev xweşe paşî bela u serkeşe. 

Laughter, it is that whore―a sweet-talking mouth, then trouble and control. 

Hindî vekêşîn ser keşe bê şerim u stir u perdweye. 20 

No matter how much we pull back, it draws us, unashamed and unbound and without 

curtain (restriction). 

Xoşîya bidet bawer neke; hindî ji ye bêt xu jêveke. 

Be happy and do not believe; for as long it lives it wants to pull away (apart). 

Çunkî yeqîn pîs mesleke bê bawer u bê qaîdeye. 

Because dirty filth is the situation without belief (trust) and without base (faith). 

Kî hate têda berzekir, ‘ehid u wefa digel wan nekir. 

Whoever came to it (to live on it) became lost, never kept promises and was unfaithful. 

Pêẍembera dest jê vekir zanî ku ya xar we’deye. 

Prophets withdrew their hands because they knew she was crooked. 


238 

Wan guh neda ser leḧ’tekê, dît ya xirabe kupekê. 25 

They did not listen (give into) ‘wait a minute;’ 157 they saw she was evil from the start. 

Ma kê bi dewam xwo ḧewcekê bese; we lê ev paleye. 

Who continuously has enough; we are such laborers (insistent) at it. 

Xwozîya kesê guh daye min―şêx u melaw, mêr u jin. 

Lucky are they that listen to me―sheiks, priests, men and women. 

Me divêt bu wan faîdê mezin; lew min dewam gazindeye. 

We want for them big profits; that is why I continue to criticize. 

Hindî we riḧ maye dileşî nabin dewam xêr u xuşî. 

For as long as you have life in your body, deeds and happiness will cease to continue. 

Buçî tu hêyî zeḧmet keşî? ‘Umrê me her bê faîdeye . 30 

Why are you still struggling? Our life is unprofitable (meaningless). 

Dinya me roje yan şeve; heçîya çu ya dî hate ve. 

Our world is day and night; whenever one goes, the other arrives. 

Hindî hebîn tertîb, eve sal u zeman ev madeye 

For as long as we have been organized, this has been the case for years (and time - 

forever). 

Dayîka me çû. Babê me çû. Fikirê ku bapîr kîve çû? 

Our mother left. Our father left. Think about it―Where did our grandfather go? 

Kî hatîye têda u neçû pêş çavê xasa wek seye. 

Who is come unto (Earth) and has not gone away from sight is like a dog. 

Note: The poem continues; the balance was not translated. 

157 A request for a very short period of time.

239 

AN4 



Ey Ze’îmê Bê Nivêjê Bê Werar 

O Leader Without Prayer and Use 

Ey ze’îmê bê nivêjê bê werar, 

O leader without prayer and use, 

Wekte bê eqilek ne rabo se ‘eceb. 

No one like you-without intelligence and surprising-has risen. 

Roj u şev nifrîn li ser te sed hizar. 

Day and night, a hundred-thousand curses are upon you. 

‘Aqibet dujmin te bun Kurd u ‘Ereb. 

Finally, Kurds and Arabs became your enemies. 

Qatilê me’sumekê 158 ’alî neseb― 5 

The murder of a very righteous man of a great lineage― 

Wî esilda qet nebun ‘aqil u edeb. 

He, from his ancestry downward, has never had intelligence and manners. 

Bu nexuşîya umetê xu kir sebeb. 

For the pains of the community he made himself the reason. 

Pêkve umet maye ḧeyrî rast u çep. 

Together the community is staring (in awe) right and left. 

Ew bi destê xu bal qatil nebû. 

He, with his own hands (will), was not the murderer of height (person). 

Dergihê fitna ‘Iraqê buyî vebû. 10 

The door of chaos has opened in Iraq. 

Bu fesada ‘alemê nê ew sebu. 

The mischievous spy (trouble maker) between community was that dog. 

158 Someone prevented from doing wrong.

240 

Sut li xelkî qelib u mêlak u kezeb. 

Burnt (in distress) in the people the heart, liver and lung. 

Mude’î bu wî şefî’u (alimthinbîn). 

Petition for him, comfort (him) (guilty ones). 

U ḧekem bu wan îlahul’alemîn. 

And the judge for them be the humankind’s Lord. 

Wî me ferma cehnem u dêwê le’în. 15 

He welcomed us to hell and the nasty demon. 

Fayde naken bu wî ew nav u ruteb. 

It will not profit him that name and rank. 

Ew kerê, têjkê kerî, dayî makere. 

That donkey, son of a donkey, the mother a jennet (female donkey). 

Mudde’î digel wî yeqîn pêẍembere. 

Time with him is right (true) Prophet. 

Ew bu çuna cehinemê bê şik fere. 

For him to go to hell is, without a doubt, necessary. 

Hate ser emirê, xudê qehir u ẍezeb. 20 

He came to power, the god of sorrows and distress. 

Piştî mirnê ka bu wî mal u mefer? 

After death where is there for him a home and opportunity? 

Ew, wekî ji dinya betal, derkefte der. 

He, like the empty universe, went out (thrown out). 

Man di dilda sed kul u qehir u keser. 

He remained in heart, a hundred sorrows, sadness and grief. 

Ka reḧim însanê bê esil u neseb? 

Where is mercy, (you) the person without family ties (background) and ancestry? 

Lazime bo wî şev u roj her girî. 25 

It is necessary for him to cry day and night (from sorrow). 

Cehnema helbûy u bo wî sincirî

241 

Hell is burning (for him) and for those chains (for him to be beaten with). 

Xolyeka germe ewî bi xo werkirî. 

Hot ashes he poured over his head (what trouble he put himself in). 

Cehnemê bo wî şev u roje, qebeqeb. 

Hell is calling on him night and day, calling him like a quail’s call. 

Wî neman çare beman, tedibîr u dad 

He was left without a solution, a lead (pathway) and justice 

Ku li’Îraqê rrakirîn fitne u fesad. 30 

For rising (putting in) disobedience and troubles in Iraq. 

Dujminê wî xalqe (reb ali’bad), 

The enemy of the Creator (Lord of worship), 

Ku eve ḧeqê teye ey bê edeb, 

That this is your justice, O you, without manners (disgraceful), 

Wî bi emirê xu wekî kuştî melik. 

Like he killed, with his own order, the king. 

Xaliqî digel wî ‘nade u kerib u rrik. 

The Creator is angry and offended with him. 

Wî mu’în ḧeşirê kî ye dabçîte nik? 35 

Who does he have as a helper to go to in the Judgment Day? 

Bê şefî’ ma bû hewar u bê teleb. 

He is left without a career, calling for help and without request. 

Ew ḧeta mirnê biket her ta’etî. 

Even if he labors until death, he still worships. 

Faîde naket bu şirîkê le’netî 

It will not benefit the friend of the blasphemer (Satan) 

Nê eve te’ne bişirîët vê ketî. 

This is the mocking that he is hit with by the Shariaa (Islamic Law). 

Ew ze’amet bu çîye liser wî leqeb? 40 

That status is for what with that title?

242 

Fexirê ‘alem wî li xwo dujmin kirî 

He has made an enemy of the Good-Doer of the humankind (God). 

Dujmin seyîd, bu wî sax u mirî. 

The enemy was a religious person, for him (while) alive and dead. 

Wî bi fesadê agir u cehinem kirî. 

He purchased fire and hell with mischief. 

Puyçe şule ew nihu buî muntexeb. 

It is a hollow work that he has become selected (chosen for). 

Note: The poem continues; the balance was not translated.

243 

AN5 



Kiçkek Me Divêt 

We Want A Girl 

Kiçkek me divêt ji nû gehiştî, 

We want a girl that has become of age, 

Ya ji dêm u rûya xunav ne rijtî. 

From whose face has not dripped dew (a virgin). 

Wextê ji derî bihême xanî, 

When I enter the house through the door, 

Rrabît me ax u biket ve piştî. 

Arouse from me sexual arousal, and (then) do it again (repeat). 

Gava ko bidet me têşt u şîva, 5 

When she gives us breakfasts and dinners, 

Bêjît me kuro hilo vî tişt u miştî, 

She tells us to get us this thing and that thing (a table full of things), 

Rengê xu bidem wekî gula geş. 

(So that) my appearance is that of a blossomed flower (healthy). 

Me’na ku, “Were bi xu vî tiştî.” 

I mean, “Come and eat this thing.” 

Tibla xwo dirêj biket me, 

Pointing her finger at us, 

“Wey, pa tu neyê kirêt u ziştî.” 10 

“O! You so not ugly and ziştî.” 159 

“Leqet nehêt girêdan.” 

“Leqet 160 will not become tied (together).” 


244 

“Ḧaşa guneh bît tu…” 161 

“Forbid that you are a sinner.” 

Ku digel me biket herru tirana. 

So that she always jokes with us. 

Me’na ku, “Quza tu çendê miştî.” 

Meaning that, “Vagina, how full you are. (are you?)” 

Xalîke hilu miskîn tijî… 162 15 

Empty it. Get up, quiet one, fill… 

Me ji vî terefî dilê birijtî. 

From this side we have burnt the heart. 

Vî barê giranê hinde sala, 

This heavy load for so many years, 

Wey sed ëceb tu hêj nekujtî. 

O’! A hundred times over (I am) surprised it hasn’t killed you. 

Min gut, “Ne weye; ewê xu sil kir.” 

I said, “That is not how it is (untrue); she become upset.” 

Tu ji vê direwê yeqîn keliştî. 20 

You surely became torn by this lie. 

Ka fikire ruya çi qurmiçîne? 

Think―(your) checks―what wrinkles (them)? 

Befira du şevî liser nihijtî. 

You did not leave the two-night-old snow. 

Te divêt ku bidem te mirç u maça. 

You want me to give you kisses and smooches. 

Me divêt tu bidey me zixt u xiştî. 163 


161 It seems likely that the end of the line was missing from the original text. 

162 It seems likely that the end of the line was missing from the original text.

245 

We want you to give us pressure (pounding heart) and a staff. 

Min êke meta’ eza difiruşim. 25 

This is my first time that I sell boasts (of myself). 

“Ḧeq sîne pir me da veḧiştî” 

“Truth is sîn 164 come down from us,” 

Dibêjît me linav nîvîn. 

She tells us under the sleeping sheets (on the bed). 

‘Işqa te ezim jiber buhijtî 

Because of your love, I am the one who is melted 

Gava binvim, amin bixurrîtin, 

When I sleep, if mine itches, 

Kar rabe seqîl―Tu êk teniştî? 30 

Wake up, sleepy one―Are you one sided? 

Ey, bê ‘eqlê xişîm u bê fehim. 

O, (you’re) brainless and stupid (unaware like an infant). 

Meqsed me heye tu tê gihiştî. 

You understood we had intentions 

Ma min tu vîyayî bu milk u malî? 

Did I love you because of land and belongings (money)? 

Ez bume xidam bu….. 

I became a slave for… 

Eḧmed tu bizane ey riḧa min 35 

Ehmed, know, O soul of mine. 

Min vîyayî tu jiber…* 

I loved you because…* 

163 The meanings of zixt and xiştî may be metaphoric, perhaps even erotic, as this poem is of that theme. 

Both words are related to working with oxen. Zixt is the nail on the end of an oxgoad, for prodding. Xişt 

can be a staff or a sharp metal point, but may have other meanings as well. 


246 

*Ev cihên vala di destinvîsê da di valane. 

*The empty places are empty in the author’s original work. 

Quote from Perwer Shushi (2012): “Using your name near the end of a poem comes 

from an Arabic tradition. It indicates ownership of the poem. So when people read the 

poems in other places, they would know who wrote it.”

247 

BS1 

by Badirxan Sindî 

translated by: Masoud Salim Ismail 

Bîrewerîa Barzanî Yê Nemir 

Memories Of Immortal Barzanî 

Xanê xanan, canê canan―tu bike lutif u were. 

Khan of khans, soul of souls―be beneficent and come back. 

Dil liber destê ẍurbetê bendî ye u bê mefere. 

Heart in the hand of estrangement is a slave and has no way out. 

Em li ber şewqa hîvîan, çav melê ye bêye ve. 

Infront of the treasure of hopes we are looking forward that you will be back. 

Tu bike reḧmê ji mirîdan; kengî dê tu hêye ve? 

Be compassionate to (your) disciples; when will you be back? 

Bazê bazan şahê Kurdan―ruhinîya çavê meyî. 5 

Falcon of falcons, king of Kurds―you are the lights of our eyes. 

Nê me nalîne ji dîrî meîya ‘şqa me meyî. 

We do lament from the distance, the wine of our love. You are the wine. 

Raza ‘işqê ji qîdem ra derde ye u kuvane dil 

The secret of love is from the steps of pain and the heart is grief 

Kî dê sax kit? Ji Ezel ra dil geşe u perwane dil. 

Who will bring it to life? For God the heart is glowing and the heart is a butterfly. 

Ayeta Kursî ji berkir me ciḧêl u pîr u jin. 

We―young, old, and women―memorized the Kursî 165 verse. 

Me du’a bu şev u rujan ji mezar u Înis u cin. 166 10 

165 Ayeta Kursî is ayet, ‘verse,’ 255 of Surat al-Baqarah, ‘the Chapter of the Cow,’ in the Qur’an. People 

read it at night before they sleep, believing it will make the devil flee from them.

248 

We prayed (wished) night and day to grave and (prophet) Înis and evil spirit. 

Şîn bibin nêrgiz ji nuve ber derê tekya berê. 

May narcissuses grow new again before the door of the old places of worship. 

cardin bixuînin ‘endelîb ew ji ‘şqa daberê. 

Again may birds sing―that (song) from the love of the lover. 

Lê belê, destê Xudanî ewe neqiqaşê qeder. 

Yes, it’s in God’s hand; he’s the painter of fate. 

Wî wesa fermanek dayî sutî ye li me ceger. 

He gave an order like that; the liver in us has burned. 

Şînyî u tazî ji gelî bûn çep u rast u jor u jêr. 15 

There was mourning and condolence from the people, from the left to right 

and up to down. 

Şev u roj xelkî girî bûn kal u genc u jin u mêr. 

Night and day people were crying, old and adolescent, women and men. 

Mililetê Kurd pir wefaye; sufyên destên tene. 

Kurdish people are so loyal; they are the Sufis of your hands. 

Ruḧ ji êşan pir semaye ‘aşiq u mestên tene. 

The pained soul is full of dancing; they are your lovers and stimulated ones (intoxicated 

with strong emotion). 

Erê, ey dil, kanê ew gul? Ka şemala geş u hil? 

Yes, O heart, where’s that flower? Where’s the bright and lit (glowing) candle? 

Buçî (adar) buye azar buçî bajar bu kavil 20 

Why had March become pain? Why did the city become ruined? 

Ka sîarê hilma mirnê? Kanê mîrê tirs nezan? 

166 My translator for this poem translated the word cin as ‘elf.’ Dictionaries list cin as ‘demon’ or ‘evil 

spirit.’ The translation of ‘elf,’ however, may be somewhat appropriate. Once when I was speaking about 

cin with a neighbor in the town where I was living in Northern Iraq, he said that cin were not necessarily 

good or evil, but they are creatures you cannot see that can cause trouble for people. Perhaps the term 

‘mischieveous elf’ or ‘gremlin’ would be more appropriate a translation considering their worldview.

249 

Where’s the knight of the steam death? Where’s the leader who doesn’t know fear? 

Ka ‘egîdê wan dilêran? Evro mane bê xudan. 

Where’s the fighter of those heroes? Today they became leaderless. 

Ava Arasê dipirsit, “Îru kanê gemîvan?” 

The water of Aras 167 is asking, “Where’s the sailor today?” 

Kanê curtê xurte mêran? Ka mêvanê nexişîvan? 

“Where’s the Wildman of the wild? Where’s the guest of nexshivan?” 168 

Lê, bi çuna te, her emîn ser zemanê te u berê, 25 

However, with your departure (leaving), it’s still us in your time and your past, 

Çunkî tu hey u her heyî ruh u wîjdanî, erê. 

Because you exist and always will exist; you are the soul and the conscience, yes. 

Dilber u aşiq her êkin lê belê rengê mecaz. 

Sweetheart and lovers are the same, but their color admissible. 

Car bi caran bi îcazet hin li hin dê kin cîaz. 

Sometimes by your permission they will make some differences. 

Pir evîna mililetê me, êke gel zatê melê. 

Full of love, our people―we have a country which we ourselves are parts of. 

Ew didil da nîşte cê ye, lê belê çavê me lê. 30 

He has settled in our hearts, yes, but we will keep our eyes on him. 

Zahir u batin êk kese di şir’eta ‘şqa zelal. 

The appearance and the inside are the same in the justice of pure love. 

Ew u Kurdînî êk kesin çi kemal bin çi zewal. 

He and Kurdishness are one person whether by being perfect or by passing away. 

Ger zewala te hatbit, her dê mînî tu u her, 

If your time to pass away is come, you will remain (exist) forever, 

Çunkî Kurdînî namirit, çav hevale bu nezer, 

167 Aras is the river Mustafa Barzanî and others with him crossed when entering the Soviet Union. 


250 

Because Kurdishness doesn’t die, (like how) eyes are a friend of one’s sight, 

Ku kemala te gehişte geş stêra Muşterî. 35 

That your perfection arrives at the bright star of Jupiter. 

Tali’ê Kurdan geşaye manê tu ew perwerî. 

The luck of Kurds is joyous because you are that leader. 

Wêne ya suz u dilêran xuîaye ser ruîmetê. 

The picture of promises and bravery is like sweat on the cheeks. 

Wer bixuînin eî hevalan ayeta xuş hîmetê. 

Come, read, O friends, with us the (poetic) verse of good effort. 

Ew ji zik mak da pilink bu, şahidî ḧebsa Mîsil. 

He was (still) a tiger when he was a baby, when he witnessed the Mosul prison. 

Hêşta zaru bû demê ku dîtî ye kuvan u kul. 40 

He was still a child when he saw sadness and grief. 

Êş u derdên mililetê Kurd wî ji hîngê kirne ders. 

He then took advice from the pains and aches of Kurdish people. 

Şehirezayî u ‘eqil u curet ew mukim lê bune ders. 

He strengthened his expertise, cleverness and bravery from the life lesson. 

Şahê bazan, mîrê qadan―wî nebadan hizir u bîr. 

The king of falcons, the leader of the battlefields―he did not deviate from (his) ideas and 

thoughts. 

Lew ji hîngê ew li sîngê cane bexşên genc u pîr. 

That’s why since that time he (is) in the heart (chest) of the fresh offerings of the 

adolescent and the old 

Suz u peyman em didinte gel teda u ala weda. 45 

We are giving you promises and pacts that we will be with you and your flag. 

Em bimînîn bê te, senger, meşxelên roka weda. 

We remain without you, ramparts, lights of your way.

251 

BS2 


translated by Masoud Salim Ismail 

Gerîanek Di Kurdistanê Da 

A Walk Through Kurdistan 

Havîn bu çume Şingarê, 

It was summer when I went to Shingar, 

Hêjîra li dem nubarê. 

A fig in the time of spring. 

Min dît li wêrê cwanek. 

I saw a pretty lady there. 

Awir dida ji alek. 

She was winking from the corner. 

Tîtî ya zêra li ser enî 5 

The golden decoration on her forehead 

Dilê min girt u hincinî. 

Took hold of my heart and made it vibrate. 

Min gutê, “Kiça kê yî?” 

I asked, “Whose daughter are you?” 

“Torîna kîş malê yî?” 

From which nobleman’s house are you? 

“Tu gula kîş baẍçê yî?” 

“You’re a flower from which garden?” 

“Nêrgiza serê kê yî?” 10 

“Whose‘s narcissus’s head are you?” 

Gutî, “Ez Kurdistanim.” 

She said, “I’m Kurdistan.” 

“Xuştivî ya Kurdanim.” 

I’m the dear of Kurds

252 

“Evîndara şi’ranim.” 

“I’m the lover of poems.” 

“Ketîme dest nezana.” 

“I fell into the hands of ignorant ones.” 

* * * 

Hatîme Dîarbekrê, 15 

I went to Diyarbakir, 

Cihê Pîran u befrê. 

The place of Peeran 169 and snow. 

Nalîna kewî têtin; 

The moan of the partridge is coming; 

Birîndare wê dikêtin. 

It’s wounded and it’s singing. 

Min gutê, “Kewê kê yî?” 

I asked, “Whose partridge are you?” 

“Çima li nav befrê yî?” 20 

“Why are you in the snow?” 

“Çira yê birîndarî?” 

“Why you’re wounded?” 

“Xwîndarê destê kê yî?” 

“Who has done this to you?” 

Gutî, “Ez şêx Se’îdim.” 

He said, “I’m sheikh Saeed.” 

“Bu Kurdistan mirîdim.” 

“I’m a disciple of Kurdistan.” 

“Şêx Se’îdê Pîranim,” 25 

“I’m sheik Saeed Peeran,” 

169 A religious leader in Kurdish history.

253 

“Şurşivanê Kurdanim.” 

“A revolutionary of Kurds.” 

“Bê kes u bê xudanim.” 

“I have no relative and I’m alone.” 

“Ketîme dest neyara.” 

“I fell into the enemy’s hands.” 

* * * 

Bu Mehanadê gerîam. 

I searched for Mahabad. 

Wek dara tuyê werîam, 30 

I fell down like the mulberry tree, 

Darek didest biçwîka. 

A stick in children’s hands. 

Pê dikirin yarîa bîka. 

They were playing doll games with it. 

Min gutê, Ev çi darî?” 

I asked it, “What a stick are you?” 

“Wek rebena livî warî” 

“Like a poor stick in this place” 

“Li kulana di xişandin,“ 35 

“Has been slipped in the streets,” 

“Ji nîvê ra şikandin. 

“Has been broken from the half. 

Gutî, “Ez dar ala bum.” 

It said, “I was a flag stick.” 

“Nav beyna çwar çira bum.” 

“I was amid the square (in Mahabad).” 

“Swînd u qesa merdabum.” 

“I was the promises and words of man.”

254 

“Ez qîbleya Kurda bum.” 40 

“I was the qîbleya 170 of Kurds.” 

“Siha serê xorta bum.” 

“I was the shadow (fear stick) for young, energetic people.” 

“Ketîme dest biçwîka.” 

“I fell into the hands of children.” 

* * * 

Ser evraz çum Şikaka, 171 

On the upward slope I went toward Şikak, 

Nav mêr xaz u mêr çaka. 

To brave men and men of goodness. 

Şerker u xurt u zurin. 45 

They are fighters―strong, and very much so. 

Turk u ‘Ecem li durin 

Turks and ’Ecem 172 are surrounding it 

Xurrîna şêrî têtin. 

The roar of lion is coming. 

Şewqa ji çavan pêtin. 

The light from the eyes is sorrowful. 

Min gutê, “Lawê kê yî?” 

I said, “Whose pretty one are you?” 

“Tu şêrê kîş warê yî?” 50 

“You’re a lion of which field (homeland)?” 

“Aşiq u mestê 173 kê yî?” 

170 The direction one faces Mecca when praying. 

171 An area in Turkey where there is a large Kurdish tribe. 

172 Means ‘the original Iranians,’ according to Perwer Shushi.

255 

“Whose lover and euphoric one are you?” 

“Xwîndarê destê kê yî?” 

“The blood enemy of whose hand are you?” 

Gut, “Simkuyê Şikakim.” 

He said, “I’m Semku Shekak.” 174 

“Serê xu ez şur nakim.” 

“I will not put down my head.” 

“Kurdînî yê ji bîrnakim.” 55 

“I will not forget Kurdishness.” 

“Ketîme destê hara.” 

“I fell into the hands of wild people (enemies).” 

* * * 

Hatîme ve Şingarê, 

I came again to Shingar, 175 

Def wê şerimin u jarê. 

Beside that shy and poor girl. 

“Kakal 176 nav kakilî.” 

“You are the core inside the core.” 

“Tuî şîşa evî 177 dilî.” 60 

“You’re the glass of this heart.” 

“Çima tu ya pir janî?” 

“How come you are full of pain?” 

173 While mest means “drunk” or “intoxicated,” it can also be used to describe a person’s euphoric state, 

whether it be of one’s emotions, a deep conviction or sincere care for someone or something. 

174 A great figure from Kurdish history in Turkey. 

175 A city near Iraq’s border with Syria. 

176 The core of a kernel or seed. 

177 The î on evî is a type of Specific Reference Marker (SRM), an aspect of the language that needs further 

research.

256 

“Pusîde u kovanî.” 

“You are full of cares and grievous.” 

“Tu buçî zîz u silî.” 

“Why you are angry and disgruntled?” 

“Berê xu dî wî milî?” 

“Why do you turn your head away?” 

Gutî, “Ma to nizanî?” 65 

She said, “Don’t you know?” 

“Dê min dine bîanî.” 

“They are going to give me to foreigners.” 

“Lê min swînde bixudanî.” 

“But I am promised to the one who owns me.” 

“Dê gurîkim vî canî,” 

“I will sacrifice this soul,” 

“Neman u yan Barzanî.” 

“Either to die or be with Barzanî.” 

“Naçim digel xwîndara.” 70 

“I’m not going with enemies.”

257 

BS3 


translated by Şîvan Toma 

Bila .. Bila 178 

OK .. OK 

Bila .. bila, çi bêjit. 

Ok .. ok, what he says. 

Bila dilê min bihêlit. 

Ok, my heart, let (him) leave. 

Dustê mine bi evînî. 

He’s my friend by love. 

Xudê, bu min bihêlit. 

God, protect him for me. 

Sal bu salê diburînim. 5 

I’m passing away year by year. 

Rundka ez lê diwerînim. 

I am shedding tears for him. 

Xudê, dustê min kanê? 

God, where’s my lover? 

Kengî ez dê wî bînim? 

When will I see him? 

Dustê min .. Boçî sile? 

My lover .. Why (is he) mad (at me)? 

Dilê min ji ber wî kule. 10 

My heart is distressed because of him. 

178 This poem became a song which was published and played on Kurdish radio in Baghdad by Gulbhar (a 

female artist) in 1967.

258 

Bêjnê eza razî me. 

Tell him I’m accepting what he says. 

Agrê vînê her hile. 

The fire of life is still lit (glowing). 

Dustu .. manê te zanî. 

Hey lover .. you already know. 

Ez sil nînim bi giranî. 

I’m not mad so heavily. 

Dustê min evro gutî, 15 

Today my lover said, 

“Tu xwîna nav dilanî.” 

“You are the blood inside hearts.”

259 

BS4 



Dergehê Jîn U Hîvî Ya 

The Door of Life and Hopes 

Dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtye dîsa, çima? 

The door of life and hopes is closed again, why? 

Ma ji jîna kurte? Jîn bit. Ma ji ‘emrê me çi ma? 

Is it a short life? It's life. What has remained from our life? 

Spêdeya bêtin. Çi lêbkim ger di gencî da nehat? 

The morning is coming. What shall I do with it when it doesn’t come early? 

Nêrgiza warê me werîa u xunavek pêda nehat. 

The narcissus of our land have withered and without a dewdrop having fallen on it. 

Taqeta çerx u sema me nema, yarê bizan 5 

The energy to play around and party is no more―know it, friend 

Şînî î u girîn bu me man şerbeta ah u xeman. 

Mourning and crying remained for us, the juice of moaning and distress. 

Lew dinalim; lew dikalim; bilbilê .. hêlîn herfit! 

That’s why I am lamenting; that’s why I am growing old; the nightingale .. the nest has 

been ruined! 

Sed hizar hêlîn herfîtin! Dijmino, te heq kerfit. 

One hundred thousand nests are ruined! Enemy, you destroyed the justice. 

Bilbilê bê kes mişexte u kavile fezê gulan. 

The single nightingale is an exile and the farm of flowers are a ruin. 

Agirek berbî hinava 179 u talana cerg u dilan. 10 

A fire occurred in the guts, pillaging the livers and hearts. 

Canîkên kumêda revîn ketine nav çul u çîan. 

179 Organs of the abdominal area.

260 

The pretty funny girls escape and landed in the deserts (wilderness) and mountains. 

Lurîna gurga li nîv şevan piçandin cerg u sî yan 

In the middle of the nights the howling of wolves frightened the liver and the lung or 

Agirek kete dilê me u çirîskek jê veneyî. 

A fire has fallen inside our heart and a spark separates (us) from it. 

Kete asmana u nivêsî, Kurdu! Tu hebî u heyî! 

Enter the skies and write, Kurds! You exist and will always exist! 

Dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtîe dîsa çima? 15 


Ma ji jîna kurîe? Jîn bit. Ma ji ‘emrê me çi ma? 


Te divêtin ez bimînim ketîê barê xu bim. 

You want me to remain the fallen of my own load/burden. 

Ez mêvanê warê xu bim deruzê malê xu bim. 

I became the guest of my place and became a beggar of my own house. 

Barekê êk car girane u pesare rêka mejê 

A heavy load, one that is absolutely heavy, and our way is upward. 

Şêx ‘Ubeîd u Şêx Se’îdê ruhine rêka wa li metê. 20 

Sheikh Ubayd and Sheikh Saeed – It’s bright, their way coming toward us. 

Fenerên tarîxê digeşin, ruhnîa çav u dilan. 

The torches of history are bright;(they are)the light of (our) eyes and hearts. 

Dê çi xuînim? Berperan av ruyê u êş u kulan. 

What will I read? Papers of shame and pain and sorrow. 

Tazî ya Qazî jibîr nekin; bo bikin şînî her sal. 

Don’t forget the funeral of Qazî; mourn for him every year. 

Kuzrîn gulên çîayan nêrgizên şeng u şepal. 

The flowers of the mountains have been burned, the young and bright narcissuses. 

Ristikên şenqê bu vedan can fîdayên rastî yê. 25 

Necklets of throats were ready for him to sacrifice his soul for truth.

261 

Çûn ser sêdar u qinaran heware 180 li Kurdînî yê― 

They went on the gallows and ropes; the call for help is for Kurdish identity― 

‘zet u Xeîrî u Qudsî Mistefa―ew çar bira, 

Ezat, Xeîrî, Qudsî and Mustafa―those four brothers, 

Rohnîa çav u dilan―Her geşin ew çarçira. 

The light of our eyes and hearts―They are always bright, those four lamps. 

Ew çirayên mililetîne şewq vedan bu me lewa 

They are the lights of the people; that is why they gave off light for us 

Bilbilên şermin dixuînin, “Kurdu dê rabe jixewa!” 30 

The disgraced of the nightingales are singing, “Hey Kurd, wake up from dreaming!” 

Dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtîe dîsa çima? 




Zana u nezan her êkin. Kurdînu nabit eve. 

Literate and illiterate are one. Kurds, this is unacceptable. 

Lew ji êşa em dinalîn; her li me dunya şeve. 

That’s why out of pain we moan; the world is always night for us. 

Karwanên şevan diburin, lawik u heyran 181 xuşin. 35 

The night convoys are passing, special songs are enjoyable. 

Risteyîn stêran disujin bu me harin; lew geşin 

The lines of starts are burning. For us they are mad. That’s why they are bright. 

Guh bidin dengê bilwîlan, ew çewa bu me dibistirin. 

Listen to the sound of the flutes, how they are singing for us. 

Xuşe lê dengê narînan 182 dilê me tijî kulin 

180 Hewar is a call for help. 

181 These two words are used together to represent a certain type of Kurdish song, one that is almost a 

chant. 

182 Songs that women will sometimes sing at a wedding.

262 

It’s joyful, the sound of songs; (however) our hearts are full of sorrow. 

Her emîn heta ev sale xewneke bişên bijîn. 

It’s still us until this year, a dream you can live with. 

Wek hemî xelkên cîhanê, wan sinûra ji xo vedîn. 40 

Like all people of the world, we separate those borders from us. 

Xewneke bişêm bibînim―devrê dilê min xast. 

It’s a dream that I can see―the place my heart requested. 

Nabitin bu me bibînîn jêr u jur u çep u rast. 

It’s impossible for us to see it from bottom and top and left and right. 

Nabitin bu me tewafa ew cihê lê Mem u Zîn. 

We can’t go and worship the place of Mem and Zîn. 183 

Nabitin evro biburîn ji tuxîbê Xanîqîn. 

It’s impossible today for us to pass from the danger of Khanaqeen. 

Nabitin biçim nik Xanî bu vekim dilê bi xwîn. 45 

I can’t go near Xanî and open for (him) my heart with blood (sadness). 

Nabitin biçim Dêrsîmê bikelêşim dilê bi evîn. 

I can’t go to Derseem and break in two pieces my heart with love. 

Dergehê jîn u hîvîa girtîe dîsa çima? 




183 Mem and Zîn are the main characters in one of the most famous pieces of Kurdish literature, the epic 

poem Mem u Zîn, written by Ehmedî Xanî, who is mentioned in line 45.

263 

BS5 



Nehat 

It did not come 

Dîl u êxsîrî ji gelî bun―ser feraza min nehat. 

They became captives and prisoners of (another) people―my self-respect 184 did not 

come. 

Mam di’îşqa wê şepalê―sil u zîza min nehat. 

I remained in love with her―my wave of ill temper and discontent did not come. 

Çav dinêrim ez bibînim―xuş ‘ezîza min nehat. 

I anticipate seeing (her)―my lovely dear did not come. 

Guh min da awaz u lavçan―dengê saza 185 min nehat. 

I listened to melodies and songs―the sound of my guitar did not come. 

Ez ji ke’bê 186 ra mirîdim hec u ferza min nehat. 5 

I am a follower of ke’ib―my pilgrimage and religious duty did not come. 

Cejne u sunete aştî―pir ‘aciza min nehat. 

Peace is a celebration and tradition― the one who’s upset with me has not come. 

Şivanê deşt u zuzanim―berxe nazamin nehat. 

I am the shepherd of deserts and summer pastures―my fine lamb did not come. 

Dawet u şahyan veqetyan―can u taza min nehat. 

All weddings and dancing has been cut off―my pretty and excellent lady did not come. 

Têhnî 187 u tav u tehreye―siha gwîza min nehat. 

It’s dry and sunny and hot―the shadow of my walnut (tree) did not come. 

184 ‘Pride.’ 

185 Saz―in Turkish, bağlama―is a stringed instrument with a long neck. 

186 The black stone in Mecca. 

187 Literally ‘thirsty.’

264 

Çend mekir hawar u yeman―kes bu duza min nehat. 10 

No matter how much we cried for help and mourned, no one joined me in my cause 

Kî wekî me mubitalye kes li rêza min nehat. 

Who is afflicted like us?―No one followed my way. 

Mam li nêçîrê ji mêje şah u baza min nehat. 

I continued hunting for a long time―my king and hawk did not come 

‘Ud u sentur bistirîne―xuş awaza min nehat. 

Play your oud and hammer dulcimer―my nice melody did not come. 

Min bi jehira wê qebîle―maru, gaza min nehat. 

I accept her with her poison― snake, I’m not crying for help 

Ez bi ḧukimê mirnê dayme (neqza) (*) qeza min nehat 15 

I, with the sentence of death given me (the opposition)―my misfortune did not come. 

Derfete ḧakim bibînim―roja ḧeza min nehat. 

Chance is the judge I see―my lucky day did not come.

265 

BS6 



Bêla 

House 

Ji kelekên ‘ewra, 

From the rafts of clouds, 

‘Ewrên hizira, 

Clouds of thoughts, 

Min gundek avakir. 

I created (constructed) a village. 

Di wî gundî da min bêlayek çêkir. 

In that village I made a house. 

Ez çume serbanê bêlayê 5 

I went onto the roof of the house 

U ji bejna dilbera xu 

And from the body of my lover 

Min dar alayek renî. 

I plant a flag-tree. 

Alayek ji renkê nêrgizan min pêvekir. 

I stuck a flag of the color of narcissuses on it. 

Min dilê xu … dilê xem giran 

I made my heart … heart of great sorrow 

Kire bagurdan. 188 10 

into a roof roller. 

Banê bêlayê me gêra u .. u gêra. 

We rolled and rolled the roof of our house. 

188 A roller used to make the soil (clay) on roof flat

266 

Welê gelu, 

But people, 

Dîsa hinde dilupên barana 

Again some drops of rain 

Têne xwarê. 

Fell down. 

Ez ji xewa giran rakirim 15 

I awoke from the heavy dream 

Ez hişîar kirim 

I became aware (conscious). 

Kanê gundî? 

Where are the people (village)? 

Kanê ban? 

Where’s the roof? 

Ka dilê min, 

Where’s my heart, 

Helgirê xema giran? 20 

The bearer of heavy sorrows? 

Min pisîara ‘ewrên heval kirin 

I asked the clouds of friends, 

Gelu, 

People, 

Kesek ji we bagurdanek dîtî ye? 

Has anyone of you seen a roller? 

Bagurdanekê ji dil u çavan? 

A roller from heart and eyes? 

Ji bejna canan çêkirî? 25 

That has been made from the body of souls? 

Gutin, Belê .. me dît

267 

They said, Yes .. we saw it. 

Ji serê çîayê hîvîyan 

From atop the mountain of hopes 

Girêle dibî 

it was rolling down 

Kete binê nihala xema gelîyan. 

It fell to the bottom of the ravines of sorrowful canyons. 

Bagurdanê te qet qet kirin. 30 

Your roller was cut into pieces. 

Hwîr kirin. 

They smashed it in pieces. 

Kirin tisbeḧ.. 189 

They made it into rosaries .. 

Hizar tisbeḧ jê çêkirin. 

They made thousands of rosaries from it. 

Li (super markîê) têne firutin. 35 

They are being sold in the market. 

Siraye .. siraye 

Rows of traffic (and) rows of traffic 

Siraye li tisbeḧan. 

Rows of traffic for the rosaries. 

Bi xudîkên tirumbêlên nwî tu b vedikin, 

They’re hanging them by the rearview mirrors in their new cars 

Bu cwanî. 

For decoration. 

Tisbeḧên ji leşê bagurdanî çêkirî. 40 

Hand rollers that have been made from the body of roof top roller. 

189 A closed string of beads used for prayers, much like Catholic rosary beads.

268 

Bi tirumbêla vedikin .. 

They’re hanging them in cars .. 

Eman, eman, 

Ah, ah, 

Derd u yeman― 

Pain and sorrow― 

Sutim eman― 

Ah, I am burned― 

Derdê giran. 45 

Pain heavy.

269 

BS7 


translated by Şîvan Toma 

Mîrê Peyvan 

The Prince of Words 

Ji seydayê sadiq biha’alidîn ra pêş kêşe 1983 

Presented to Mr. Sadiq Baha’ Al-Deen 1983 

Erê, sîlav, çima evro melwîl u hişik u zuhayî? 

Yes, waterfall, why are you so sad and dry and thirsty 190 today? 

Kelê, boçî tu bê deng u negeşdar u verêlhayî? 

Fortress, 191 why are you quiet and unobservant and indifferent? 

Çira, dil, tu wesa evro ji kakil ra yê arhayî? 

Why, heart, are you today so agrivated from the core of your being? 

Gutin, yaro bê kew rabu sefer kêşa u zavaye 

They said, Friend, he got up without the partridge, journeyed away. And he is the 

groom! 

Te da rê, ey Mîrê Peyvan, bê saz u maz li pêş te biçin. 5 

You went on your way, O Prince of Words, without having people 

walk before you. 

Şagirdên te heqe çûban bi mewkib ew cilil reş bin 

It would have been right for your disciples to go in procession dressed in black clothing 

Heta peyvên te jî, seyda, li vê ş’rê da jî geş bin. 

Even your words also, teacher, would in this poem have radiated. 

Ẍerîbê vê jîlnê bu şeva mirnê jî hu maye. 

The stranger of this world has been left like this for the evening of death. 

190 Chyet (2003) states that hişik means ‘dry’ for inanimate things, whereas zuha means ‘dry’ for living 

things. 

191 Or ‘castle.’

270 

Ji warê bê kesan, kes bu li baẍî xirş ew pir berbu. 

From the homeland without caretakers, there was somebody in the barren garden 

guarding it. 

Çi çaxek bu wî dest pê kir ku Kurdî hîngê bê ser bu. 10 

What a time began for him when Kurds at that time were without a leader. 

Kewek bu lê neçu ravê ji kewgiran 192 nekew girbu. 

He was a partridge but he did not go hunting because for the hunters this partridge is not 

a hunter. 193 

Bi rastî (Sadiqî) lewra dil bi navête avaye. 

Actually (Sadiq), that is why the heart is flourishing by your name. 

Te sîng da ber reşebayan bi xizmet çûye ezmanî. 

You led (put your chest) in front of the storms (and) you served the language. 

Me hulên tîj çi car neşîan bikulin ber derê xanî. 

The sharp scepters never could dig at the threshold of the house. 

Ji turî ra tu dergeh buî bi suzî. xuş zêrevanî. 15 

For the jackal you were the door with promise; you are a good guardian. 

Bi pîrî jî qelem geş bu ewî xizmet ne berdaye. 

Even in his old age the pen was sharp (and) did not stop the service (work). 

Çi tavek bu gelo ya geş li çaxê tarî u şev reş! 

What a bright sunrise for the people, radiance in the dark time and black night! 

Çirabu ew li ber çavan helat u gut ezim Ateş― 

It was a candle that choked in front of the eyes and said, I am Atesh. ― 

Bi Kurmancî gemî darê li derîayê zimanê xweş. 

With Kurmanji, a wooden boat in the sea of nice language. 

Ji pêş Le’lan wî peyv girtin. Niquvanê me Kurdaye 20 

In front of Le’lan he held the words. He is the diver of us Kurds. 

Mirîdê vîna Zînê bu nesaxê derdê Memê bu. 

192 Literally ‘partridge hunter’ 

193 A partridge hunter uses a patridge to catch other partridges.

271 

He was the disciple of the love of Zeen. He was the ill one from the sorrow of Mem. 

Rundika Tac u Sitîê bu, fîẍana Sî u Xecê bu. 

He was the tear of Tac and Sitî, the mourning of Sî and Xecê. 

Xuş vîê gav u mijê bu ‘evdal bu çav her li rêbu. 

He was the dear one of time and fog; he was the quiet one, his eyes always on the road. 

Gelo! Lewra disujit dil ku cih kew evro valaye. 

People! That’s why the heart is burning, because the place of the partridge today 

is vacant.

272 

CX1 

by Cegerxwîn 

translated by Behrooz Shojai 

Dilê Cegerxwîn 

Cegerxwîn’s Heart 

Agir bi Kurdistanê ket, lewra haware dil; 

Kurdistan ravaged by fire, thus my heart is a cry for help; 

Sed baẍ u sed bistanî ket manendî bilbil jare dil. 

A hundred gardens and a hundred meadows devastated―I, dejected, like the disheartened 

nightingale. 

Pêtek ji Kurdistanê hat, mêalik u cergê min dipat; 

A flame came from Kurdistan, burning my lung and liver; 

Aman welat, aman welat―Bawer bikin, xwînxware dil! 

Alas my home, alas my home―Believe me, my heart is terrible! 

Bawer bikin, eî yarê min, heval u hem guhdarê min; 5 

Believe me, O my lover, friends and all listeners of mine, 

Her gav u her êvarê min, naxoş u hem bêzare dil. 

Every morning and every evening of mine, the heart is unwell and always despondent. 

Bêzar u pir naxoşe ew, kincên sîyeh – gûn – poşe ew. 

It is despondent and quite unwell, dressed in garments of mourning; it is sorrowful. 

Geh sîne, geh seîdoşe ew, geh heîderê kerare dil. 

At times light-hearted, at times it is Seidosh, at times it is the Smiter Haydar. 194 

Geh Rişteme, geh Xateme, geh Padîşahê Deyleme. 

At times it is Rustem, at times it is Khatem, at times it is the King of Dailaman. 

Bê yar u dost u hemdeme, lew mest u gerdenxware dil 10 

It is without lover and friend and companion, that is why my heart is drunk and twisted. 

Geh şahe ew, geh bêkese, geh Kurde ew, geh Farse 

194 The nickname of the fourth Khalif, Ali.

273 

At times it is the king, at times it is forlorn, at times it is a Kurd, at times it is a Persian, 

Geh berbere, geh çerkese, geh turke, geh tatare dil 

At times it is Berber, at times it is Circassian, at times it is Turkish, at times the heart is 

Tartar. 

Geh çole geh, zozane ew, geh Dêrik u geh Wane ew. 

At times it is wilderness, at times summer pasture, at times Derik and at times it is Wan. 

Geh şaxe, geh westane ew, geh mûşe, geh zinare dil 

At times it is standing (strong), at times it is kneeling (tired), at times it is mûş 195 at times 

the heart is a massive rock. 

Geh are dil, geh ave dil, geh tare dil geh tave dil. 15 

At times the heart is a flame, at times the heart is water, at times the heart is obscure, at 

times the heart is the light of the sun. 

Murxê seher der dave dil, lewra cegerxwîn pare dil. 

The heart is like the entrapped songster; that is why Cegerxwîn’s heart is lacerated. 

195 Meaning unknown. Muş is the name of a province in the Kurdish area of Turkey, however use of it 

seems vague here (whereas in the line above there’s a comparison drawn between Dêrik and Wan). 

According to Omar, mûş can also mean ‘unknown land’ (Omar 1992).

274 

CX2 

by Cegerxwîn 


Silav Li Sifra Hazire 

Salute the Feast (Dining-table) Is Ready 

Ey, sûxteyê bê nav u deng, 

Alas, the unknown wretch, 

Dijmin li ser balafire, 

the enemy is above the airplane, 

Pir leşker u top u tiveng. 

A full army and canons and muskets. 

Seîda ewe, ew mahire. 

He is the master; he is the skillful one. 

Sed salin ev zeyd u ‘emir, 5 

Hundreds of years are this zeyd 196 and life 

Cenge digel rîşa melê. 

In battle against the pen of the priest. 

Mertal di dest wan de bihuşt, 

The shield in their hands is heaven, 

Gurzê di dest wan agire. 

The club in their hands is fire. 

Şêxê ko tac u teîlesan 

The sheikh with crown and turban 

Weregirtye rengê xidir. 10 

has taken the shape of Green Knight. 197 


197 The muslim/islamic figure Khidir is close to the Western figure of Green Knight

275 

Rûniştîe li birca belek 

He resided in the colourful fortress 

Şahê ‘ecem şah nadire. 

(Against) the Persian Shah―the Shah is Nadir. 

Ew sofîê dîl u reben 

That severe ascetic Sufi 

Serqot u xwas u tazî ye, 

Is bare-headed and barefoot and naked, 

Digirî bi hawar u fîfan, 15 

Weeping in lamentation and moaning, 

“Şêxê me ‘Evdilqadire.” 

“Our Sheikh is Abdulqadir [Geilani].” 198 

Carek li şêx ew nanerî 

He never beheld the sheikh 

Da zanibe rast u derew. 

To see how righteous he is. 

Kincê li şêx u şal u qumaş― 

Garments on the sheikh are of the best fabric― 

Kincê li sofî çadire. 20 

The Sufi goes about in rags. 

Aẍa bi deh gundên xwe ve 

The landlord, owner of ten hamlets 

Bawer dike keîxusrewe. 

Is imagining himself to be Xerxes. 199 

Talanker u diz u keleş― 

Marauder and robber and plunderer― 

198 The head of the Naqshabdi Sufist Order. 

199 Likely Xerxes I of the Persian Empire.

276 

Wî daye ser rêça gure. 

He has taken the path of the wolves. 

Halê me kurmanca eve! 25 

(Behold!) This is the state of us Kurds! 

Em dê çilo serbest bijîn? 

How can we gain our freedom? 

Herçî ko çûyî guh medê; 

Forget the bygone ages; 

Silav li Sifra hazire. 

Salute, the feast (dining-table) is ready. 

Seîdayê rast u ronî ye. 

He is the teacher of truth and light. 

Lewra Cegerxwîn namîdar. 30 

Thus (that is why) Cegerxwîn is famous. 

Zana dizanin ew kî ye, 

The versed (educated) ones recognize him, 

Ên ker dibêjin kafire. 

The ignorant ones say he is a blasphemer (infidel).

277 

CX3 

by Cegerxwîn 


Dînê Me Tête Zanîn 

Our Religion Is Becoming Known 

Nifiînekê ji yezdan dikim, tu bêje amîn; 

I beseech the Lord, say Amen, 

Şêx u melayê Kurdan belengaz u geda bin 

Let the Kurdish Sheikh and preacher lament in mendicancy 

Lewra yekî ji wana qanûn bi zarê Kurdî. 

None of them wrote the law in Kurdish 

Ji bo me çênekir qet, ji ber vê em nezanin. 

for us at all, not one bit. That is why we are ignorant. 

Xwe pîr dikin di wez’ê hem sirif u ni’hu u mintiq; 5 

They make themselves old (seasoned) in (elaborating on) morphology, syntax and logic 

(in Arabic) 

Bê zar u xet u xwendin, li nav xelkê dewarin. 

We, the herd of people are (left abandoned) without language and script and 

ability to read. 

Payz u hem zivistan, her sê mehên biharê, 

Autumn and all of winter, all three months of spring, 

Her dem dikin mitala. Daxwaz ji wan re havîn. 

All the time they are pondering. We request only summer from them. 

Her dem dibên emin ê ko warsê nebî ne; 

They were always asserting, “We are the ones to bear the legacy of the prophet.” 

Lê def u çerx u govend wan kirine ayîna dîn. 10 

But they turned the drums and dancing into a rite of religion. 

Dibên, eger bi Kurdî ‘lim ko bête xwendin, 

Alleging that, if the knowledge was acquired in Kurdish,

278 

Em dê bibin Qizabaş, Kurd u Bixar u Maçîn. 

We shall convert to Qizilbash (Shiite Persians), Kurd and Sugdians and 

Trans-Chinese. 

Feqî bi xwe nezane, seîda dinêrî qamûs; 

The student of religion being ignorant, the teacher searching through the dictionary; 

Her yek bi dil dibêjin em miftiyê zemanin. 

Each one claims that they are the keyholder of the era 

Bi Kurdî ger bixuînin bê renc u bê giranî; 15 

[Let us] read in Kurdish without toil and drudgery; 

Bê qeîd u şeriḧ u ḧaşî cahil bi xwe dizanin. 

Even the ignorant would learn without conditions or deviations 

Dînê me tête zanîn bi her ziman u her xet, 

Our is becoming known in all languages and scripts, 

Bi Kurdî yan Firengî, yaxûd bi xetê Latîn. 

In Kurdish or European or even in Latin script. 

Welalhî bûm ceger xwîn ji derdê şêx u seîda; 

By god, shekh and preachers made me to despondent (Cegerxwîn). 

Qelem digel zimanim her dem bi ax u nalîn. 20 

The pen along with my tongue, always in torment and anguish.

279 

DD 

by Deyka Dalyayê 

translated by Şamal Akreyî 

Ji Nazên Te Xerîbim 

I Miss Your Childlike Ways 

Demê çipkên baraneka hûr sema liser pişta serbanê me dikir, 

When the wispy rain danced on our rooftop, 

dengê baranê xemeka dijwar di dilê min da darand. 

the sound of the rain was arousing a fierce sorrow in my heart. 

Ez dihimbêza teda mîna naneka gerim dinav devê birsîekê lexrîn da 

In your embrace I was like a warm loaf in a hungry mouth 

Dinav êk da buhjîn u 

We were dissolving into each other and 

tibilên min ji lêvên te têr şîr vedxwar u 5 

my fingers were drinking plenty of milk from your lips and 

hemî leşê te dikire buhar. 

your whole body was turning into spring. 

Hêşta ew aşiqim..ewa har 

I still love you..she who is wild (wildly in love) 

* * * 

Demê hetaf zer ki jiber tavyên ewran xu vedşêrin. 

Then the pale ray hid behind the sunlight of the clouds. 

Tu dibuye şev; 

You were becoming night; 

ez dibume stêr. 10 

I was becoming a star. 

Tu li min digerîaî 

You were looking for me

280 

bu maçeka ser pê. 

just to have a swift kiss. 

Te şer gel turîê dikir 

You were quarrelling with the darkness 

xu dimin werdikir u 

you were throwing youself at me and 

şevê sema liber maçên bilez dikir…..? 15 

the night was dancing with (our) swift kisses. 

* * * 

Eve çend buhar burîn u 

Many springtimes have gone and 

ez henasên te helid kêşim. 

I breathe your respiration. 

Ji xerîbîê neşêm êdî ji te dur kevim u 

Due to (my) longing for you, I still cannot go (fall) far from you and 

tu hindê nêzîkî. 

you are so close to me. 

Hindî sîtafka min. 20 

You are my shadow. 

bibure, neşêm sîtafkê bidesta bikirim. 

Sorry, I cannot touch the shadow. 

* * * 

Ez xewnekim di fincana qehwa te da; 

I am a dream in your coffee cup; 

tu şehîdê barana eşqêî. 

You are the martyr of the passionate rain. 

Ruha min digel xu bibe u 

Take my soul with you and

281 

ez u tu dê digurekî da nivîn u 25 

you and I will sleep in one grave and 

da ji te dur nekevim…? 

so I don’t stray far from you. 

* * * 

Payîzan te naz dikirin 

During the autumns were making you delicate (to be spoiled) 

Nazên te digel belgan diwerin. 

Your childlike ways were falling with the leaves. 

Min jî baẍçek ji şihrên bê hudeyî dane baî u 

I, too, threw a garden of absurd poems to the wind and 

tu dibuye zarukekê şuîm u 30 

you were turning into a restless child and 

şer digel baî dikir.. 

wrestling with the air.. 

Tu neşêî hemî belga vedeî u 

You cannot collect all the leaves and 

şihirên min vêdeî… 

you cannot gather my poems… 

Tu nabînî….? 

Don’t you see? 

* * * 

Demê tu li stivankê gerdena min dinêrî, 35 

When you look at my necklace, 

ji çavên te ditrsim. 

I am afraid of your eyes. 

Ne ku maçekê ji min bidizî u 

not that you will steal a kiss from me and 

dujeha xerîbîa xu bikeye sêva beheştê u

282 

to turn the hell of your longing into a night of paradise and 

zuî serda biçî u 

quickly become deceived and 

min ji beheştê derbêxî.? 40 

cast me out of your heaven. 

* * * 

Liser şeqama u 

On the streets and 

libin dara berî u 

among the trees of the wilderness and 

mezarê bê nav, 

unnamed graves, 

em dû belatînk buîn. 

we were two butterflies. 

Tejî henasên me haratî bu. 45 

Our breath was full of wild lust. 

Digel baî difrîn u 

We were flying with the wind and 

digel rujê ava dibuîn u 

we were setting with the sun and 

digel şevê dinivistîn u 

we were sleeping with the night and 

digel elindî hişîar dibuîn. 

we were waking up with the dawn. 

Hîvî dikem xu ji min ne vedze 50 

I hope that do not hide from me. 

min nehêle…….?? 

Do not leave me!

Note: The dots and question marks in the lines of Kurdish are from the original author. 

Not understanding their purpose at times, I have used punctuation that seems appropriate 

for the English translation. 

283

284 

H 

by Hizirvan 

translated by Zeerak Kamal 

Bêhna Gulê 

The Smell of the Rose 

Gulek birîn, ji binê kirin, bêhin jê neçu. 

They cut a rose, cut it off; it did not lose the smell. 

Xabûr girtin; bi sed sikiran tev kirine cu. 

They blocked the Khabor; 200 with a hundred dams turn it into streams. 

Dîsa hemî çûne serê; xabûr her çu. 

The streams came together again; the Xabor continued to flow. 

Teyrek înan verûçkandin―nav jê ne çu. 

They brought a bird and deplumed it―it did not lose its name. 

Turevanek kuştin, goşt lê pirtpirtkirin, 5 

They killed a writer (scholar), cut his corpse into pieces, 

Agrek boş li ser helkirin, berzekirin. 

And ignited a massive fire on him (his body) and hid him. 

Xwelî ya wî jî bin axkirin, 

They also buried his ashes in the earth, 

Belê jinav xelkî neçu. 

But he did not go from among the people. 

200 A river that goes through the city of Zaxo.

285 

HS 

by Hisin Silêvanî 


Ew Xanîma Henê 201 

That Lady 

Ew Xanîma henê, 

That lady, 

ewa digel wêskî dihal diçit― 

who gets into an intoxicated state― 

sed sofî li ber pên wê av u avdiçin. 

hundreds of sufis disappear under her feet. 

* * * 


That lady, 

ewa li ber perdê 5 

who behind the curtains 

dihizira ra mayî― 

goes deep into thoughts― 

runahîa dilê wê 

the light of her heart 

perdê spîtir lêdikit. 

turns the curtain whiter. 

* * * 

201 According to my consultant, the word henê is used to “refer to or point to something.” The author could 

have simply said Xanîma henê, leaving off the word ew, a demonstrative. Perhaps by using both ew and 

henê, the statement is emphatic.

286 


That lady, 

ewa di duîkêlê ra mayî― 10 

who is stuck in the smoke― 

xweşe sîha girinjîna wê 

it’s nice, the shade of her smile is delightful 

dema pêkê xwe radikit 

when she picks up her shotglass 

* * * 

u dil ji min 

and from me my heart 


That lady, 

ewa cigarê bi destê çepê digirit. 15 

who holds her cigarettes with her left hand. 

şewqa lêvên wê xweşî jê dizêt, u 

The brightness of her lips― pleasantness springs from it, and 

dirijit ser mêzê, u 

pours it out on the table, and 

mêza wê delalitir dibit. 

her table becomes more graceful. 

* * * 


That lady, 

ewa Xudê di cwanîê da dahêalî u 20 

who God dipped into beauty and 

têkde delalî. 

every bit of her is graceful. 

Dema pêkê vala têdikit u bilind dikit u

287 

When she fills her empty shotglass and picks it up and 

hêdî, hêdî xweşîê li me direşînit, 

gradually sprinkles gladness on us, 

şewqa zendê wê 

the brightness of her wrist 

şemalkê ruhin dikit. 25 

makes the candle brighter. 

* * * 

Ew xanma henê 

That lady 

ewa destê xwe danî bin serê xwe. 

who puts her hand under her head. 

Çend delale!! 

How gorgeous is she!! 

xuzî ez destê wê bam 

I wish I could be her hand. 

* * * 

Ew Xanîma henê, 30 

That lady, 

ewa wek wê ne. 

who no one can be compared with. 

Li vê şevê, ewa enî spêde. 

On this night, her forehead is the morning. 

Ava bit mala wê, 

Bless her home, (may her home prosper) 

şad kir şeva me. 

She has made our evening cheerful.

288 

MQ1 

by Mihsin Quçan 

translated by Karwan Harbi Omarkhan 

(rojanên girtîekîne di bendîxanê da) 

remembering the days of my capture 

Birînên Şevên Xwînelo 

Wounds of Night Covered in Blood 

Dibêjin xewin 

They say that dreams, 

ji turê xwe der dikevin 

they leave their nets. 

xewna têda dihêt xwîn. 

Blood comes forth from a dream within. 

Min di xew da didît 

In a dream I was seeing 

sîngê esmanî yê derbuwî 5 

the chest of the sky had opened 

yê bûî birîn 

and became a wound. 

Rûyê erdî hizar carî yê kelştî 

It had cut the face of the earth a thousand times. 

roj ya sûr bûî ya buhijtî 

The sun became red and melted 

kuçik û tenîr 

the fireplace and oven 

bi ser û çavên nanbêja ve 10 

on the face of bakers, 

yên peqjîn

289 

those who are exploited. 

Jê dizêtin xwîn 

blood springs up from it. 

Heku xelk diçûne kezaxa, 

When people go to work, 

tîrkên mêwa jê dibarî xwîn. 

even the leaves of the trees are bleeding. 

helandina hemî coxîn û miştaxa 15 

Welding all threshing floors and spreading floors 

dibû bager ... dwîkêl û xwîn. 

was becoming a snowstorm … smoke and blood. 

Me nan kerkir― 

We start eating (cut bread)― 

pirî nav xwîn. 

full of blood. 

Çi kirase me dixo werdikir, 

What kind of dress did we wear, 

hemî leşê me dikire xwîn? 20 

making all of our body blood? 

Ji lehîa xwînê, çîa dirîn, 

From the flood of blood, the mountains are torn apart, 

bajêr dibirin, 

sweeping the cities away, 

dar û bar, û serên biçwîka vedirîn. 

the trees and riverbanks, and opening the heads of children. 

Didanên min xir di helweşîan 

All my teeth are gone (deteriorated) 

ji çavên min şilqa veda― 25 

From my eyes spill tears―

290 

agr û xwîn. 

fire and blood 

* * * 

ez hişîar bûm. 

I woke up. 

Pêyek giran dergehê malê ra havêt. 

A heavy foot slammed the door. 

Dilê min di sîngê min da 

My heart inside my chest 

bibû çîçkek xo di helavêt 30 

became a sparrow and is beating 

wek revdên gurga bi jor ketin. 

like a group of wolves they came. 

Tiveng kirne di sîngê min ra u 

They put the gun inside my chest and 

binav qab qiloza ketin. 

rumaged through my things. 

Pertûkên min 

My books 

vewjartin nîva malê 35 

they tossed them into the middle of the house, 

per perkirin, pirtkandin. 

cut the papers of my books and damaged them. 

nivînên me hemî dane ber singîa, 

They took a knife to all of our bedding, 

xir dirandin. 

tearing them all. 

"Li çi digerin têşkên zinayê, 

“What are they looking for, these bastards,

291 

gîfankên bajêrvanîê, 40 

these bastards employed by the municipality, 

kirmên axê û maşotên, 

caterpillars of dirt and (little green) worms, 

Xoşî û hîvî?" 

Pleasantness and hope?” 

* * * 

Şelyaî pêxas 

(He has) barefoot pajamas, 

bi ser û çavên herî û xwîn ve. 

mud and blood on his face again. 

Di kulanada jorda dibirim. 45 

I am walking along the road. 

Ez pê dihesîam. 

I recognize him. 

Xelk pencera yê vediken u 

People are opening the windows and 

careka dî zwî, zwî digirin. 

then they quickly, quickly close them. 

Li kulanê 

On the road 

kes ne dwêrîa xo bi min haî det, 50 

everyone is afraid of defending me, 

li ser milê xo zivirin. 

turning their heads. 

Herçende, min ji dil bawere 

Albeit, I believe in my heart 

heku bi şevê dimînin bi tinê, 

that when I am alone in night,

292 

yan di degirin 

or crying 

li ser mêzên vexarnê, 55 

at the drinking table, 

dikel diçin, bo min digirin. 

the smoke (that) is going (up), it is crying for me. 

* * * April 14, 1985 

Heku şevê 

When the night 

xo bi dehmanên bajêrî ve dikir tilove 

made itself tilove 202 on the hem of the city 

xo dikir pinî û pêve dirist 

made itself a patch and sewed itself on it 

heku qeralê tarîê 60 

whenever qeral 203 of the dark 

çengên xo didan 

gave their wings 

şenge kezîên kehrebê 

beautiful woman, braids of electricity 

dikêşane ber sîngê xove, 

pulls them to her chest, 

dimêtin ... dimêtin, 

sucking …sucking, 

berdane ve zerupêtî u xav û sist. 65 

She released (them) tired and disheveled. 

Li dirêjîa cadên bajêrî 



293 

In the long roads of the city 

qêjîên bajêrvanîê dibehîn. 

the whole municipality is screaming. 

Kêm dibû girî. 

Very few people were crying 

Zer dibû kenî 

They were pale (unhealthy), laughing 

Bê dengîyê xîveta xo veda ji nwî. 70 

Without a sound, their shelter (tent) was appearing new. 

Bajêr dinivst. 

The city was sleeping. 

Hingî, dêmê te geş dibû 

At that time, when you were maturing 

dinav mêrgên hizirên min da, 

among the field of my thoughts, 

te dinav olîên xewnên min da 

you in the faith of my dreams 

dikir şev bêrî 75 

shared an evening of fellowship 

digel dilê min da reqsî. 

with my heart you dance. 

Hemî bihavên 204 leşê min 

All over my body 

sivig destekê lê gêrî 

quickly washing up. 

Te hwî kirbûm yarîeka mit, 

You had taught me a silent game 


294 

car mendehoş da rawestî û 80 

sometimes drunk and standing and 

rik û rik çavên min nêrî. 

way by way you looked into my eyes. 

Car da xo keî befir û barî. 

Sometimes you made yourself snow and came down. 

Min sîngê xwe dikire kêrî 

I was making my chest a knife 

dema rojê kezîkên xo berdanexwar 

when the sun dropped its braids (rays) (onto the earth) 

da buhujî 85 

so that it melted 

yan da zîzbî 

or was angered 

li direka dwîr xo veşêrî 

In a place she hid herself. 

ev serê çend şevane 

The early start of so many nights 

li min hizrete 

I’ve been wishing 

mezela min 90 

My room 

berê şimka te maçî ket 

the upperside of the sandle you kissed 

Ne bêjîye min 

Don’t tell me 

têşke seyên li ber dergeha. 

the bastards are on our doorstep. 

Nahêlin bi jora min bikevî. 

I won’t let them enter my room.

295 

Yan ji ber rengê goma xwîna di jora min ve 95 

Or is it because of the color of the pool of blood inside my room 

tu newêrî? 

that you are afraid? 

Were, Xanîm. 

Come, lady. 

Hêvke şînwarên lêvên xo 

The remnant of her lips 

li ser leşê min 

on my body – 

çawa bizotkê cigara 100 

how the smoke 

guvenda xo ya girêdaî, 

creating its own dance, 

ya xwe kirîe rêzke mêrî 

making itself a row of ants. 

* * * May 2, 1985 

Li evê dirê 

In this place 

rêveçûna şev û rojan ya aloze. 

walking in the night and day is unusual. 

Rojê, kirasên reşê liber, û 105 

The day, wearing a dark cloak (overcast), and 

şev her şeve. 

night is all night. 

Ev dîware di reşandîne, 

This wall is being scattered, 

hemî navên mirovane, 

all of them are the names of people,

296 

xudanên wan, 

the owner of them, 

bo bîrhatin, 110 

for remembering, 

bi neênukên xo yên helkolayin, 

with his fingernails digging something, 

navên nwî tob şere ligel navên kevin, 

the new names fighting with old ones, 

hindek nava 

some names 

nêrîên nanî yên liser serî, 

bringing the basket of hot bread on the head, 

perindeyên dixon û direvin. 115 

and the birds are stealing (the bread) and leaving (flying away) quickly. 

Hindek nav dixwînelone― 

Some of the names were bloody― 

dixwînelone. 

bloody. 

Çipkên xwînê yên jê dikevin. 

Drops of blood were falling down. 

Eve li vêrê― 

This is here― 

navê (Hemuî) 120 

name of ‘Hamoi’ 

navê (Temer) 

name of ‘Temer’ 

navê (Silwî) 

name of ‘Silwee’ 

navê hemî û her kesekê.

297 

name of all and everybody. 

Ji derê mala xo derketî û 

He left the door of his home and 

li kes û karên xo berzebuwî 125 

disappeared from his family and daily life. 

Eve li vêrê şev, xwîne 

This here night, it is blood 

(şev û xwîn ya têkhelbuwî). 

(night and blood mixed together). 

* * * June 20, 1985 

Hero ...... hero 

Every day … every day 

keratekê diînin sermin. 

They’re bringing keratekê 205 onto me. 

Dest û pên min yên giroc buwîn, 130 

My hands and my feet have become useless, 

nahên bermin. 

too difficult to work. 

Pisîara çend nava ji min diken; 

They are asking me for some names; 

min çi caran nebîstîne. 

I never heard any of them. 

Hindek kirîaran palden min. 

They accused me of something. 

Bi serê tekem 135 

I swear by my head. (You have to believe me.) 

Min ev dave neristîne 


298 

I didn’t set these traps. 

Yên li hîvîê min sîçeloken. 

They are hoping to make me guilty. 

Min sîç nîne― 

I’m not guilty― 

ji bilî navê te serbarî û 

with the exception of your name and 

navê welat 140 

the name of (my) country 

di dilê min da dinivistîne 

sleeping in my heart. 

* * * July 3, 1985 

Bêhin dikem. 

I am smelling. 

Bêhna gemara mirnê dihêt. 

The dirty smell of the dead is coming. 

Diqulê ra min çav lêbû. 

I am looking through a hole. 

Memkê çepê yê zerîekê― 145 

The left breast of the beautiful woman― 

bi kêrê birî. 

cut by the knife. 

Mêhvanê nwî― 

The new guest― 

pezkanî berda axê û serjêkirî. 

sent the sheep to pasture and beheaded (them). 

Ev kalê birex min ve dikenît, 

This donkey beside me is laughing, 

serê xo li dîwarî didetin. 150

299 

hitting his head against a wall. 

xêzana wî bi xanîve sot. 

They burned his family inside the house. 

Kurê wî dane ber leqa, 

Put forth his son to be bitten (throwing his son to the dogs) 

verot kelot, 

wearing out his clothes, 

helawîst û heta mirî. 

left him hanging until dead. 

Bêhin dikem 155 

I am smelling 

bêhna mirnê ... bêhna tirsê. 

the smell of the dead … the smell of fear. 

Ditirsim bîstên van daî diza 

I am afraid twenty of them are paid thieves. (I’m afraid of those terrible people.) 

Vê carê li serê min bikevin. 

This time they are going to do the same thing to me. 

Çi sîtafka didet bin derî, 

Each shadow appears under the door. 

Her pêjneka ji derve bihêt. 160 

Each rape victim comes from outside. 

Teznik bi leşê min dikevin. 

I am shivering with fear. (Shivering is falling on me.) 

Aî, lê Xanîm.. 

Oh, but lady.. 

Çend gelekên didilê min da, 

How very much that is inside my heart, 

Dê bo te bêm. 

I’m going to tell you.

300 

Ger carekê çavên min bi çavên te bikevin 165 

If sometime my eyes meet your eyes 

da bêjme te 

to tell you 

mêr dibine çi 

what does a husband become 

demê mirin delnig û hiçka lê digirît û 

when death’s grip is taking off the cuffs and pants cuff and 

neşên biarîên, 

they cannot provoke, 

neşên birevin 170 

they cannot escape, 

Birastî, nazdar, 

In fact (beautiful) lady, 

girkekê keftî dilê min. 

I am shivering for fear. (A shiver fell in my heart.) 

Ditirsim bîstên van daî diza, 

I am afraid twenty of these sons of robbers, 

vê carê liser min bikevin. 

that this time they are going to do the same thing to me.

301 

MQ2 

by Mihsin Quçan 

translated by Karwan Harbi Omarkhan 

Helo . . 

Eagle 

Li nik me befir wa di barît 

By us it is snowing 

Li ba hewe jîk befir dikevît? 

Is snow also falling by you all? 

Mitayê me . . erê . . erê 

Our goods…yes…yes 

Befir Ya Li Vêrê 

Snow Is Here 

yê li kolana 5 

on the roads 

yê hewe jîk 

and yours also 

li kulana ye? 

Is it on the roads? 

Yan jî avahî bi dest dikevît 

Were you able to find shelter? 

Helo . . 

Eagle 

Esmanê me yê azrî 10 

Our sky is agitated 

car yê qêrî ya radihêlît 

Sometimes shouting and screaming 

ji helma wî diçîtin gurî 

from its breath it’s steaming hot

302 

Hindek cara diket girî 

Sometimes it cries 

heku li birîna xo dinêrît 

whenever it looks at its wound. 

Ew birîna . . 15 

That wound . . 

çavên stêra bo derkirî. 

that the stars took out their eyes for 

Helo . . 

Eagle 

Befrê nihal yên pir kirîn 

Snow filled the ravines. 

dawetên me yên bir kirîn 

covered our weddings 

Rêkên li gondê me birîn. 20 

It cut off the paths to our village. 

Helo . . 

Eagle. . 

Sehkene me . . 

Look at us . . 

em yê li nav derîa befrê da 

we are in the sea of snow 

li kolanên me 

on our roads 

li ser banên me 25 

on our roofs 

li ser mujîlankên çavên me 

on our eyelashes 

befre . . befre 

snow . . snow

303 

li derazînka 

on the doorsteps 

li nav zevîka 

on the fields 

li ser mil û pirçên biçwîka 30 

on the shoulder and hair of children 

befre . . befre 

snow . . snow 

evê befrê . . 

This snow . . 

rwîyin kiçên me sorkirin, 

made the cheeks of our girls red, 

maçî kirn 

made kisses 

li pêş çavên me 35 

in front of our eyes. 

Ne got şerme 

It did not say, “it is shameful.” 

Helo . . 

Eagle . . 

Dar û barên me ditazîne. 

It makes our trees and riverbanks cold. 

Hemî tişt li ba me di tezîne, 

Everything is cold where we are, 

jibilî xwîna dilê me . . 40 

except for the blood of our heart . . 

Tinê germe, 

It is only hot, 

tinê germe.

304 

it is only hot.

305 

MT1 

by Mu’eyed Teyb 

translated by Newzad Hirorî 

translation was published in: KRISTIANSEN, GEORG. 2009. From genocide to self-rule, 

adaptation of the Swedish text by Gudrun Winfridsson. Riga, Latvia: Livonia Print. 

Kî dê merwayê tena ket? 

Who will comfort Merwa? 

Kî dê Merwayê tena ket? 

Who will comfort Merwa? 

Ev soratîa hwîn, bi dev û lêvên merwayê ve dibînin ne sorava dayka wê ye 

This red colour, on Merwa’s lips is not the lipstick of her mother, 

yarî pê kirîn. 

which she used to play with. 

Ew xwîne xwîn... 

The colour is blood, real blood… 

Ev pinîên reş û şînên, 5 

Those black and blue marks 

hemî leşê wê dapoşîn 

covering her body, 

ne nîşanin; ne bwîaxên resmî ne... 

not a symbol; not a portrait… 

Ew seçme ne û birîn. 

They are cuts and wounds. 

Ev girî û hawara diket jî - bi xudê nenazdarîne - ew êş û azarin. 

She cries and pleads for help – by god, they weren’t babied (spoiled) - they are suffering 

and hurt. 

Cergê wê birîn...ey Xudayê Mezin 10 

Her liver is wounded…O Great God, 

kî dê vê tifala birîndaru bê xudan tena ke?! 

who will comfort this wounded and orphaned child?!

306 

------------------------------------------------------ 

Ey Xudayê Mezin, 

O Great God, 

Kî dê vê kîna reşa, wekî jehrê, wekî şevî bi ser vî welatî da digirît binbir û fena ket?! 

Who will eliminate and extinguish this black malice―like poison, like night―that is 

over this country?! 

* * * 

Evro spêdê 

This morning (When this day dawned) 

Merwayê babek hebû. 15 

Merwa had a father. 

Her gaveka 

Often 

destên xo bilnd kirban li milê xo dikir. 

(whenever) she lifted her arms, he would set her on his shoulder. 

Evro spêdê, 

When this day dawned 

Merwayê daykek hebû. 

Merwa had a mother. 

Her gaveka diber ra çûba 20 

Whenever she would pass by (her), 

she would kiss her. 

maçî dikir. 

--------------------------------------------------------- 

Evro spêdê 

When this day dawned 

Merwayê du xwîşk û birayek hebûn. 

Merwa had two sisters and a brother.

307 

Bi qelem û defterên wan yarî dikirin. 

She played with their pens and books. 

Evro nîvro kes jê nema. 25 

In the middle of the day her family was no more (they were all taken away). 


O Great God, 

kî dê vê hemî kîna reş binbir û fena ket? 

who will uproot and annihilate all this black malice? 


O Great God 

Merwa ya digrît, 

Merwa is crying, 

kî dê tena ket?! 30 

who will comfort her?! 

Eger sibe ji birînên xo jî ra bû 

Even if tomorrow she recovers from her wounds, 

mezin bû û bû bwîk, 

(and) grows up to be a bride, 

kî dê karê wê ket u 

who shall make her beautiful (prepare her, make her ready), and 

kî dê dest û tilên wê xena ke?! 

who shall colour her hands and fingers with henna?!

308 

MT2 


translated by Şerzad Barzanî 

Xewinek 

A Dream 

Xewinekê bide min ez pê bijîm 

“Give me a dream to live with 

yan fireka jehirê ez pê bimirim. 

Or some poison to die with.” 

Gunnar Ekelof 

Swedish Poet 

Şivêdî, Da! 

Last night, Mom! 

Min xewinek dît! 

I saw a dream! 

Xewina te xêre, kurê min! 

Your dream is a blessing, my son! 

Hêdî bêje.. 

Gently tell me.. 

Dîwar bi guhin! 5 

The wall has ears! 

Yadê min dît.. 

Dear Mother, I saw.. 

goya zemîn dibû mehfwîrek 

the ball of the earth changing into a rug. 

Xudê ji asimana hate xwar. 

God at once descended from the heavens. 

Wî serek girt; 

He took one side

309 

min serek girit 10 

I took one side (the other). 

Me daquta..me daquta..me daquta 

We shook it, over and over again. 

Paş em firîn. Çûîne ser stêreka bilind.. 

Then together we flew. We went on a star far away.. 

Hemî çîa u bajêr u gund 

All of the mountains and cities and villages 

bûne..zeryek nivistî u ruîs. 

became a beautiful woman, sleeping and naked. 

Şane, şane me hêv kirê.. 15 

With pride, with pride we looked at it 

Ne tax maîne, 

There was no crown (district), 

ne pistal maîne u 

no (military) boot (authority) remained and 

ne polîs!! 

no police!!

310 

MT3 


translated by Şerzad Barzanî 

Fireka Baî 

A Sip of Wind 

Kurdistanê! 

Kurdistan! 

fireka baî.. 

A sip of wind, (please), 

ji çîayekê befir lê maî.. 

from the top of a snow capped mountain. 

Evroke..çavbeleka min.. 

Today .. my black eyed girl.. 

ya girêdaî 5 

is in chains 

li bin kwînekê reş u drîaî.. 

under an impudent (black and torn) tent, 

li nav deşteka bê bab u daî.. 

in the middle of a desert, without father and mother, 


where the sun is terribly hot 

xîzê şarîaî.. 

the sand is burning all over. 

Zerîa min ya 10 

My beauty too 

di xuhê ra maî.. 

continued to perspire. 

ezê ditirsim.. 

I am afraid

311 

ji dilbera dêm befir u xwîn 

of the sweetheart with the fair and rosy complexion 

ji enya kever.. 

of the forehead covered with dark hair 

ji bejina şirîn 15 

for her sweet stature 

ji dilê evîn.. 

for her amorous heart.. 

lê bûî birîn.. 

but it became a wound.. 

ji cergê zozan.. 

for (her) soul (lung) of the summer pasture.. 

lê bûî kovan. 

but it became a sorrow. 

Ezê ditirsim.. 20 

I am afraid.. 


that the hot sun 

kirêt biket.. 

will make her face ugly 

hizar deqa..li enîê bidet.. 

by making a thousand moles on her face, 

rengê çîa.. 

that the beauty of the mountains 

ji dêmî bibet! 25 

will be erased from her face.

312 

MX 

by Mesud Xalaf 


Dahola Êşê 

Drum of Pain 

Êş, destebirakê hezê ye, 

Pain is a companion of desire 

hez di zîndana leşê me de rizî ye. 

Desire in the prison of our body is decayed. 

Tu êdî ber bi nemana êşê ve diheliyayî. 

You are forever melting in order to reach the end of pain. 

Bejna te berhema derûna nepeniyê bû. 

Your stature was a creation full of secrets. 

Wekî berê nema têhna rojan dişikest, 5 

It is no longer as before (when it) was quenching the days’ thirst, 

Ne jî, 

Not also, 

wekî berê, te guh li ber sirûdên biharistana helbestê bel nedikir. 

As before, you didn’t listen to the poem of spring seasons 

Şînahî dihatin xewa me, hingê xewnên me şîn dibûn. 

We dreamt of greenness―thus our dreams were turning green (growing). 

Bê sînor difirîn xweziyên bê nav û nîşan, 

Desires without name and address were flying without limit. 

Em li ber derazînka hesreta xwe de, li xwe digeriyan, 10 

We were at our sorrow gate, looking for ourselves. 

Di kefa destên me de stêr dirêjiyan, 

From the palms of our hands stars were falling down. 

Asîman keçel dibû, 

Heaven (the sky) was becoming bald,

313 

Şev sêwî, tenha û belengaz. 

The night was and orphan, lonely and miserable. 

Min bê dengiya dengê te guhdarî dikir. 

I was listening to the silence of your voice. 

Carina jî zemawenda dîtinê dûr diket, 15 

Sometimes the festivity of the sight was also wandering far away, 

Carina jî, tu bê xatir diçûyî, 

Sometimes you were also leaving without farewell, 

Û rengê te li cê jivanê dima. 

And your color would remain at the place of rendevous. 

Belkî kefenekî spî bû ew şev, 

Perhaps that night was a white shroud, 

Belkî jî, ne rasthatina du hêsiran bû. 

Perhaps it was also the crossing of two tears. 

Min bê te, ji van şûnwaran bar nedikir, 20 

I without you, I was not leaving from this homeland, 

û nik dareke tûwê, min destmala te diveşart. 

and next to a mulberry tree, I hid your handkerchief. 

Dema ku tixûbên hezkirina te ziwa dibin, 

When the borders of your love are becoming empty, 

Ev cîhan tar û mar dibe ji peyvên mirina serwext. 

This world is becoming dark and forsaken from the words of timely death. 

Çima, dilo, tu hez dikî dûr bikevî?! 

Why, sweetheart, do you like to be far away?! 

Dizanim, 25 

I realize 

Teniyatî di rojên dûriyanê de, 

That loneliness in the distant days 

Sermediya veşartina tîke dilekî gunehkare,

314 

Is the eternity of hiding a broken down passion, 

Û aryanên ser lêveke xatirxwastiye. 

And the pains on a lip has been the bidding of farewell. 

Awirvedanên çiyayên kovanê, bi ser keskegotinên salên me de digirtin, 

The glances of the mountains of griefs are covering our years of fresh sayings 

Di wê werzê de kenê te pîrejinek bû, 30 

During that season your laughter was an old lady, 

Hebûna kulîlkan, di bin ebayê welatê tozê de vajî dibû, 

There were buds being turned upside down under the covering of the dusty land, 

Bijale bûn aşûpên bextewariyê, 

The visions of happiness were scattered, 

Hatine kuştin pirpirîkên dengê agirê birîndar, 

The butterflies of the sound of wounded fire were killed, 

Ji quntarên çiyayê Toros jî, 

Also, from the Toros mountain, 

Dengê bilûreke, xwedankuj 206 dihat. 35 

It is the sound of a flute, the killer was coming. 

Êdî, tu jî, ber bi hembêza jandariyê ve diçûyî û hêdî hêdî, hêmin û asûdeyî. 

You as well were approaching the embrace of pain and slowly becoming restful. 

Sîbera reşê şevê konê xwe vegirt ser bejna te. 

The shadow of the black night occupied its tent over your stature. 

206 The person taking ownership in doing the killing.

315 

SS1 

by Şaban Silêman 

translated by Ibrahim Abdullatif 

Gutgutik 

Rumors 

Gutgutkeka bazarî….. 

A rumor from the market… 

Yê dibêjin, tu heş min dikeyî? 

They are saying, do you love me? 

Pist pisteka dihête kirin.... 

A secretive gossip is taking place…. 

ku tu ya tu 'işqa min dikeyî . 

as if “will you love me” (“fall in love with me”) 

Vê gutgutkê ..... 5 

This gossip…. 

Hindek yê ji keyfa pê firî. 

Some are flying out of happiness (on clouds). 

Hindek yê ji qehra pê mirî. 

Some have died by sorrow from it. 

Çîçik dara siharîya, 

The birds (in the) morning tree 

kurtîya duhî bu êk û dû vediguhêzin. 

exchange the summary of yesterday. 

Gulêt baxça êvarîya 10 

The flowers of the evening garden 

rwîdanêt nwî yêt rojane bu êk dibêjin. 

tell each other the new (fresh) daily news. 

Lê tinê gutgutikeke û pistpsteke 

But there is one gossip and rumor;

316 

nizanim direwe yan rastîyeke. 

I don’t know if it is a fact or a lie. 

Hind dibêjin ............... 

Some say…… 

û dîtina êkê ji evîna min, 15 

and seeing someone for love, 

tu bûye agir û gurî 

you became the fire and flame 

roja paştir tu bibûye rejî û xwelî. 

(on) the day after you had become coal and ashes. 

Hind dibêjin, 

Some say, 

jimêjwere mêrga şaşa têlefona min 

for a long the plain of my telephone screen 

ji mesicêt te buharbu, 20 

from your messages was spring, 

maç û dila mil bi mil rêz û qentar bu. 

(images of) kisses and hearts, shoulder to shoulder, (were) in line and qentar. 207 

Hind dibêjin ................ 

Some say…………. 

tu ya digel min hatîye dîtin, 

(that) you have been seen with me, 

sîyar li pişta 'ewrekî. 

riding on the top of a cloud. 

Di xilweta 'eşqê di cizbe çuyî. 25 

In the passion (heat) of love you indulged. 

Emê li pişt stêra berze bûîn, 

207 Meaning is uncertain; qenter means ‘a line of camels.’

317 

We have become lost beyond the stars, 

û pirça te di destê minda 

and your hair in my hands 

ya bûye sîlaveka reş. 

has become a black waterfall. 

Ji gurrîya birîsêt maçêt me, 

From the flame (heat) of the lighting of our kisses, 

şeva reş dibû rojek geş. 30 

the dark night became a radiant day. 

Lê tinê gutgutkek û pistpisteke; 

But there is one gossip and rumor; 

Ez nizanim direwe yan rastîyeke. 

I don’t know if it is a lie or a truth. 

Lê ev gutgutke hîvîyeke. 

But this rumor is a hope. 

Xewneka jînê bi cih diînît. 

It is a dream that is bestowing life. 

Lê ev pist piste dermaneke; 35 

But this is rumor is a remedy; 

tev birîna dikewînît. 

it heals wounds. 

Ger direw bû, 

If it was a lie, 

eve xoştirîn direwe. 

this is the best lie. 

Di bajêrê me da hatîye kirin. 

It is has been done (told) in our cities. 

Eger rast bû, webû. 40 

If it was correct, it was the truth.

318 

Eve dergehê beheştê; 

This is the door to heaven; 

bi dar û melben li ber min hate vekirin. 

with (its) wood and columns it has opened for me.

319 

SS2 

by Şaban Silêman 

translated by Ibrahim Abdullatif 

'Eşqa Dihokî Ya 

Dohukian Love 

Xatwîna min.. 

My dear.. 

Li kulanêt bajêrê me 

In the alleys of our city 

hero evîneka dihête tîror kirin. 

everyday a love becomes (the victim) of terror. 

Evcar çewa, 'eşq bi aşkrayî― 

This time, love is in open view (not in secret)― 

ji me dihêt qebwîl kirin? 5 

will it be accepted of us? 

Xatwîna min..li bajêrê me 

My dear..in our city 

ew kiça bi 'eşq gulekê, 

that girl with a love flower, 

yan bi evîn silavekê, 

or with a love-filled hello, 

yan ji dildarî ramwîsanekê 

or from passion a kiss 

pêşkêşî kurekî biket, 10 

presents to a boy, 

êkser dihête serjêkirin. 

instantly becomes beheaded. 

evca çawan 

So how to

320 

'eşq û evîn bi aşkrayî― 

Love (Arabic) and Love (Kurdish) in open― 

Li vî bajêrî dê ji me dihête qebwîl kirin? 

In this city will this be accepted of us? 

* * * 

Xatwîna min.. 15 

My dear.. 

ev di bajêre.. seyîr, û entîkeye. 

this in the city.. is unexpected and atonishing. 

Bi roj, hemî miruvên Xwedêne. 

In the daytime, everybody is pious. 

Bu rwîmetîyê, hemî di lêne. 

For show (to others), everyone is ready. 

Hemî tobedarin, 208 

Everyone is penitent, 

teqwadarin, sucdeberin― 20 

religious, bowing (in prayer to God)― 

û bi şev û nîv şevan, 

and at night and in the middle of the night, 

behra pitir, gîyanewerin, 

most of them are animals, 

bêy êkudu bi heramî. 

without each other’s knowledge (secretly) in sin. 

Li pawanê duxînêt hev diçerin. 

In path of each other’s belts and zippers they prey. 

* * * 

208 One who promises to never do something unrighteous again.

321 

Xatwîna min.. 25 

My dear.. 

Li Dihokê 

In Dohuk 

pîrekalêt heştê salî 

80-year-old elderly men 

bi hêz û vejena dolarî― 

with strength and the shaking of the dollar― 

pîlan li berin. 

plans are in mind. 

Her şev kiçekê di hingêvin, 30 

Each night they descend upon a girl, 

desta li sîng u 

hands on chest and 

berêt çarde salî digerin 

on the frontage of 14-year olds they journey 

heta xudanêt bazbenda û niviştuka. 

until the vendors of horoscopes and niviștuka (religious writing to ward off evil spirits). 

Bêy (bsm allh) û bi hîmmeta mîrê ecina, 

Without (in the name of Allah) and with power of the king of the Jin, 

liser bişkojkêt memka diçerin. 35 

on top of nipples of the breast they graze. 

Û sîyasetvan û avakerêt medenîyetê 

And the politicians and the builders of civility 

bi bend û birge û peyrewê mafê afretê, 

with the lines (of articles) and lines (of laws) and programs of (in the name of) women 

rights, 

her şev her êkî li her teniştekê, 

each night each one of them next to each other (in the bed), 

du li berin.

322 

two are with them. 

di ser hindê ra, li Dihokê 40 

On top of that, in Dohuk 

hemî bu 'eşq û evînê, 

all of them for love (Arabic) and love (Kurdish), 

lomekar û hetikberin. 

are criticizers and defamers. 

* * * 

Xatwîna min, 

My dear, 

ez çi bikem 

what can I do 

ku em li Dihukê bizanîn, 45 

when we in Dohuk know 

merem ji evînê bi tenê― 

that the purpose of love is only― 

ne girtin û hilmirîstina lêvaye. 

not holding (kissing) and kissing lips (only). 

Merem ji evînê bi tenê― 

The purpose of love is only― 

ne talankirina sîng û beraye. 

not ransacking the chest (breasts) and frontage (of the female). 

Merem ji evînê bi tenê― 50 

The purpose of love is only― 

ne têk şidandna kimaxa û 

not holding tight (with hands) the thighs and 

têk werdana pêyaye. 

cuddling of the feet. 

Merem ji evînê

323 

The intention of love 

ewe― 

is that― 

mirovî dilekê pak hebît, 55 

for one to have a clean heart, 

mirov bi zanît 

for one to know 

―cihê mirovî bitinê têdaye. 

―there is space for only person (in that person’s heart). 

3/12/2000

Appendix B – Interviews 

The following interviews with Badirxan Sindî, Mihsin Quçan, Mu’eyed Teyb and 

Reşîd Findî have been lightly edited for readability. The interview with Badirxan Sindî 

was done completely in English. The interview with Reşîd Findî was mostly done with a 

translator; however, occasionally Findî interjected English into the conversation. For the 

other two interviews, I utilized a translator. Note that the translator changed the 

interviewees’ responses, which were spoken in first person, into third person. I have left 

these translations as they are, in order to do the least editing possible. 

324

325 

INTERVIEW WITH REŞÎD FINDÎ 

Mr. Findî is the chief editor of the five volumes of Ahmed Nalbend’s poetry. The 

interview was held in November of 2009 at Spirez Printing. The translator was Silêman 

Silêman. 

EM: I’ll begin with some questions just concerning use of the interview, to use it 

for my research. So, I need your permission to use this interview in my research, in my 

thesis paper. 

RF: Yes, that is right. 

EM: And is it OK if this is published even in a journal or in a book. 

RF: No problem. 

EM: Can you first just state your name? 

RF: Reşîd Findî Yehya Dosky, the vice-president of the Kurdish Academy 

EM: Can you tell us what your job was on Nalbend? 

RF: My sole purpose was the editor of Nalbend’s creative poetry. I was the main 

editor and one of the main gentlemen who typed his poetry. His friend―Nalbend’s friend 

named Tahir Mahi―Tahir Mahi collected all his poems on paper, but in an old type of 

writing. Then after that, we collected them. We collected and typed them, and afterward 

typeset them for the press. 

EM: That’s a lot of work. 

RF: That collection of his poems is five books. I read all of them three times. 

EM: What do we know of Nalbend’s beginning? What started him writing 

poetry? 

RF: Nalbend didn’t go to school. His main school was going to the mosque. After 

that he got his mullah cleric, religious title. With his religious reading he picked up 

writing poetry. He was born in 1890. During that era the Turkish were ruling, the

326 

Ottomans. It was during this time that he picked up his religious skills, and then while 

going to the mosque, picking up his religious skills, that’s where he picked up his poetry 

skills. In the year 1918 the First World War ended. The Iraqi state was founded in 1921. 

After the First World War, in 1921, what he found was that the Kurdish culture and our 

main identity were lost. That’s where he picked up and he started writing poetry. Wilson 

was the president of the United States. Wilson, the president of the United States back in 

1921, he pretty much guaranteed that after the war each prominent state or country would 

be recognized as a country. One of the major countries that occupied the Middle East, 

especially Iraq, was Britain. They divided Kurdistan into many regions. That’s when they 

split Kurdistan, which is the way it remains, between Turkey, Iraq, Iran and Syria. This 

kind of lost the whole identity of Kurdistan and its poetry, because now it’s divided four 

ways. This division was one of the main sources for their poetry, their love―from the 

1920s to the 1930s. And that’s when they (Nalbend and other writers in general) started 

writing about the Kurdish people and the culture. 

EM: So was Nalbend influenced by other poets? 

RF: One of his influences was Xanî…and Cezîrî, they were two of his influences. 

The religious side of the poetry came because he was a Muslim cleric. The side of his 

love poetry came from the fact that he had three wives―three wives but not at the same 

time. One wife died, the second wife died, the third wife died. So that’s why his love 

poetry…it’s so powerful. Because he actually felt it, you know, he lived it. All of his 

wives died, the three of his wives: the first one died, the second one died, and the third 

one died. And so that’s why his love poetry is very strong. And then towards the end of 

his life expectancy, that’s where you see the erotic side of his poetry. His more political 

side of the poetry came in 1921, after, you know, we didn’t get our state or country, and 

he was a Muslim cleric. He saw that there was a lot of Arabic in the parliament, and, you 

know, the Kurdish people were not having their say. So that’s where the political or the 

antagonistic side of his poetry came from. The side of the poetry where he talks about 

other people in a nice way, or puts them on a high pedestal, is because all of these people 

helped him in his poetry, or whatever he needed help with. So that’s why there’s some

327 

poetry that he wrote that deals with a certain person and he praises him or talks in a good 

way about him, and this is because sometime in his life that gentleman helped him with 

something. It may have been financially, it may have been emotionally, it may have been 

with a book or it may have been with a home or anything of that kind. 

In 1961 he joined the Kurdish revolution. In 1963, after two years of the 

revolution, the Ba’ath party came to be recognized in Iraq. In that same year, the Ba’ath 

attacked the Kurdish people. Their military charged through Kurdistan. He was feeling as 

if they were coming for him, because of his writing. Because of this, the fear of being 

captured by them, and God knows what was going to happen to him, he actually stabbed 

himself multiple times in the stomach. In September 1963 he killed himself because of 

the fear of the Ba’ath party capturing him. 

EM: Here in Dohuk? 

RF: In the region of Barwarê. He was in a village, a village named Xişk Haşa. He 

killed himself in Xişk Haşa. After he killed himself, the Kurdish military (peşmergas)― 

they attacked the Ba’ath party and forced them to run back down toward the south, 

toward Baghdad. And they feared for their lives and ran all the way towards Dohuk. 

Unfortunately the sad thing, see, is he killed himself before that happened. 

SS: The next thing he’s going to talk about is some types of his poetry. 

EM: Let me ask one more quick question. Is Nalbend the name of a village? 

RF: His full name is Ahmed Amîn. Oh, nalbendî is the word for someone who 

fixes the hooves of a horse. His dad―that was his profession. I don’t know the name in 

English, the profession where they put the horseshoe on the feet. 

EM: Blacksmith? 

SS: He says the name in English is “blacksmith.” 

RF: His dad―that was his profession. He (Nalbend) chose to go and study 

religion. He didn’t follow in his dad’s blacksmithing work, but took his father’s title. He

328 

was from the village of Amediya. His dad was originally from Amediya, but his 

occupation was based in Barmarnê. 

When Nalbend came into poetry, he was one of the new poets, the new form of 

the Kurdish language. The poets before Nalbend wrote in three different languages: in 

Farsi, in Kurdish, in Arabic. When he came and he started writing, he kind of distanced 

himself from those poets and wrote only in Kurdish. It was not only him; there were other 

poets. About 20 poets…Salih Hyusî, Mela Anwir Mahî… 

SS: The poets he just named were a few of them that followed him and only 

wrote in Kurdish. 

RF: He loved poetry so much and was so good at it that he’d use any scrap, he’d 

have a cigarette box, and write on that cigarette box. And he would take a napkin and 

write a poem on it. Anytime he wrote a poem, he’d pretty much duplicate it. He wrote 

two copies. One copy for him, one for his good friend Tahir Mahi. 

EM: What are the classifications, the themes, subjects, of Nalbend’s poetry. He 

mentioned them in a previous conversation. I didn’t record them. 

RF: The themes of Nalbend’s poetry were love poetry (evîn dar), erotic poetry, 

religious (dînî) poetry and, I guess, politics (sîasî) you can say…..and Kurdish culture. 

That was the fifth one. 

EM: What forms did he use? Çwarkî? 

RF: Çar. Ruba’i. The new (modern) type of poetry he didn’t write. 

EM: Did he write any in the style of tercîa band? 

RF: I haven’t seen it. 

SS: Is that a Kurdish word? 

EM: Kurdish and Arabic. 

RF: The example that you wrote, he said that we have the same type of examples. 

It’s very, very familiar. They call that Zarrora Şiarê, ‘necessary.’ It’s Arabic and means

329 

‘necessary.’ Sometimes, like you said, for example, they’d take the Turkish Kurdish, and, 

because of that word’s syllable length or sound, put that word in the poem. So sometimes, 

like you said, it’s where one word might have been too long, or you reached 16 (but want 

15). They’ll take one word that has the same meaning to reach that 15, or sometimes 

they’ll use the abbreviation. You can see for instance in some of the examples when he 

(Nalbend) used the months in Arabic. But he’d tweak it so that it fits to his poem. It’s the 

same month but written in a different type of form, abbreviated to fit the style of his 

poetry. The early poets were really good at this when they wrote in different languages. 

And sometimes you couldn’t distinguish the differences. Nalbend also wrote some of 

these types of poetry. These were some of their experiences of the early poets and their 

knowledge of three, the ones that we know of, three languages, which is Farsi, Arabic 

and Kurdish, Turkish. There might’ve been more. This is what they know for sure. This 

knowledge of language was kind of like a bakery with dough. However they wanted to 

form the dough, they could form their poetry. 

EM: For the ruba’iyat, the çar, are there different names for the different qafîas? 

209 

RF: He said if he had more time presently, he’d bring you all the types of qafîa. 

Right now he can’t remember. But in the next meeting, he’ll be more than happy to tell 

you. 

them. 

EM: I can see different qafîas. I see but I want to know if there are names for 

RF: Next time I’ll bring them for you. 210 

209 My present understanding of the word qafîa is that it means ‘rhyme scheme’ or perhaps ‘verse form.’ 

210 I was not able to meet with Mr. Findî again during this time of research.

330 

INTERVIEW WITH BADIRXAN SINDÎ 

The interview was held in Sindî’s home in the Fall of 2009. It was conducted entirely in 

English. 

EM: First, Doctor, thank you for all your help thus far and the opportunity to ask 

you some questions? 

BS: Yes. You’re welcome, anytime. 

EM: First, can I ask you to state your full name? 

BS: My name is Badirxan Abdula Sindî 

EM: Thanks. And regarding these questions I’m going to ask, and your answers, 

is it your understanding then that, is it OK for me to use them for my linguistics study, for 

my paper. 

BS: Yes, I agree with you to use all of this information. 

EM: And you understand that these things could be published in a journal. 

BS: Yes. 

begin? 

EM: Thank you. First, can you tell me how did your interest in writing poetry 

BS: In the beginning, yes. When I was in secondary school, I remember that I 

was really interested in reading poetry. But at that time it was forbidden for us in 

Kurdistan, especially in Dohuk and Zaxo, to talk about Kurdish literature or Kurdish 

poems. So at that time, most of the people here in Dohuk didn’t know that there was 

Kurdish literature or Kurdish poets. They didn’t know. But I had heard when I was in 

college―after that stage―I heard that there were two famous poets. One was Ahmed 

Cezîrî and the other was Ahmed Xanî. Ahmed Cezîrî is usually called Melaye Cezîrî. I 

tried to get their literature work, their poems. It was so difficult to get them, but finally I 

got one, a hand written copy of Melaye Cezîrî and really liked it. That was in 1966 or 

‘67. And after one year, I got some of Ahmed Xanî’s work, and since that time I started 

to study Kurdish literature and to look for Kurdish literature, and I tried to get some

331 

contact with poets. Indeed, my first drive into looking for Kurdish literature at that time 

was the feeling of Kurdishness. And Kurdishness means “the feeling of being a Kurd” or 

the feeling that I am a Kurdish man and I have the right to be like all the people who have 

their freedom and independence―and one of the markers of our cultural identity is our 

language and our literature. Because, as you know―and I think we talked about this 

subject last time―we have a very big problem, which is the Kurdish problem. Kurdistan 

is divided into four pieces and is ruled by four foreign countries, four foreign 

governments: Turkey, Iran, Iraq, Syria. The drive was patriotic. This was my drive to 

look for our Kurdish literature. And when I was in the college, I started to write some 

simple poems about Kurdistan and about our rights, and these simple poems became 

songs. The students, Kurdish students in the university in Baghdad―not in Kurdistan, 

because at that time we did not have a university here―the Kurdish students started to 

sing these poems, and that’s why I felt very happy and encouraged to write more. Yes. 

So, this was my start with Kurdish literature. 

EM: You mentioned Ahmed Cezîrî and Ahmed Xanî. Who are your favorite 

poets, and why do you like them? 

BS: Yes. I can’t say who is my favorite, Ahmed Xanî or Melaye Cezîrî. I love 

both of them, but I love Ahmed Cezîrî as a poet of poetry technique and a poet of love 

and emotional feeling. And I love Ahmed Xanî as a man who addressed the Kurdish 

issue, because he was a patriotic poet and he had philosophical ways in thinking. So we 

can consider Ahmed Xanî one of the best Kurdish thinkers. He was so clever in bringing 

logic and thoughts into the poem. So really, I respect both of them. And I can say that if I 

am a poet, I can say I am a student of two teachers―Ahmed Xanî and Melaye Cezîrî. 

EM: Well, I think you’re a poet. Many people are reading your work, for sure. 

Can you speak about changes that have occurred in Bahdini poetry, both good and bad? 

BS: Actually, because of the political situation, most of our poets of this 

generation, and the young poets―they didn’t read the classic literature and they have no 

idea about what has been written before now. Because most of this literature was

332 

forbidden, and they started after the Kurdish society here in Iraq got its freedom; that’s 

when they started to read and write in the Kurdish language. So they are beginners. They 

began with no roots really―with no real roots, literature roots. They try to copy the 

available literature of other countries or other nations. So, we can say there are a lot of 

poets here in Dohuk―and even in Sulemaniya and Erbil 211 ―who just imitate the 

Palestinian poets, French poets, Italian poets, American poets. They read some translated 

work and they try to copy the same experience and the same literature, but they put it in 

the Kurdish language. As I think about it, this is a bad thing…maybe a bad thing. 

Because I believe that the original literature is the literature which grew in this society 

with a good respect to the past and with a good view to the future. That is why we can see 

a lot of work in Badinan and Soran. Some poets who think these are the modern poems― 

They think that modern poetry is when you say something illogical, when you say some 

strange things, when you say some nasty things, when you try to be strangers in your 

society. They think this is modern literature. They try to pretend that they are the 

generation of renewing the literature. And some of them say, no, we are not renewing the 

literature; we are establishing the literature and everything that has been said before us, it 

is not literature. To them, Kurdish literature is starting now. These are extremists and 

most of the people―they don’t like this sort of literature because they say they can’t even 

understand what they are saying when reading these poems. Something strange. 

Something foreign from logic. Even the poet sometimes doesn’t know what he is saying. 

But on the other side, we have got some Kurdish poets who have done respectable work 

and they try to give a message through their poems, and depicted themselves. They read 

the previous work, like Xanî and Cezîrî and the whole history of Kurdish literature. So 

we have some famous and very good poets in Kurdistan in general, such as Sherko Bekas 

in Sulemaniya, Abdulrahman Mezurî in Badinan, Mu’eyed Teyb in Badinan, as well as 

some others. 

211 Duhok, Sulemaniya and Erbil are cities in the Kurdish region of Northern Iraq.

333 

EM: We talked about five different names for your types of poems. We say theme 

in English…subjects. What are the Kurdish words for those classifications? For example, 

patriotic. 212 

BS: We say niştimanî, hozana niştimanî. It means the poems that describe 

patriotic feeling. 

EM: Eulogy 

BS: zêmar, hozana zêmarî –And zêmar itself means a sort of crying―when you 

are alone and lose something, some valuable thing, especially when we lose one of our 

relatives or somebody close to us. He travelled away and never returned or passed away. 

So, this sort of crying or this sort of sadness we call zêmar, which is different from the 

word girîyan. The word girîyan means ‘crying.’ This is near to the English word, girîyan 

and crying. But girian is the crying when everywhere you can cry, like outside the home 

or at home. People can hear you when you cry. This is crying. But zêmar is when you cry 

in your loneliness, and you are alone and you cry for some personal thing. So, we call it 

zêmar. 

EM: We had the subject of love or a romantic poem. Do you have two words to 

describe those two, or is there just one word? 

BS: In Kurdish we use the word evîn and evînî―the same thing. We use it for the 

meaning of ‘love.’ We don’t use ‘romantic’ because romantic is not in the Kurdish 

language. But I think there is a difference between romantic poems and love poems, 

although we don’t have this sort of classification, or these two words like you have. You 

have love and romantic love, and you can use both of them for the same meaning, maybe. 

But I think, I prefer to use the word romantic for poems―for my poems―because I 

212 During my initial conversation with Sindî, which was not recorded, he shared the Kurdish names of the 

themes he writes in. I had taken down some notes, to which I was referring during the interview. Sindî 

agreed with my English translations of his Kurdish terms as we talked about them during this original 

discussion.

334 

understand love. There is no real love without respect. Love is mixed with respect. That 

is why I prefer the word romantic rather, or more, than the word love itself. I don’t know 

if I explained it very well to you―my idea. 

EM: Another one we talked about was social issues, problems in society. What 

would you call these? 

BS: We call it cevakî. Cevak means ‘society’ and cevaki means ‘social.’ So, I 

have some poems which deal with our social problems in Kurdistan. And we have a lot of 

social problems, because Kurdish society is changing from old values to new values, 

from old culture to new culture. That is why we have a lot of problems related to or due 

to these transitions. We’ve got some people in the traditional class and some in the 

modern class in our society. We’ve got some people who believe in religion deeply and 

we’ve got, on the other side, some people who do not believe in religion at all. We’ve got 

people who believe in our customs―Kurdish customs―and we have another side; we’ve 

got a lot of people who believe in European customs and modern customs. So there is a 

contradiction in our social life. In my poetry, I try to describe these problems and to find 

some solutions to our problems. So, we can call these poems as poems of the social field. 

EM: The last one is secularization. 

BS: Yes, yes…Our Kurdish language has been affected too much by Arabic 

because of respecting Islam and the Islamic Qur’an, the Islamic Bible. We lost a lot of 

our traditions, our customs. We started to think as an Arab somehow because of the 

religion. Most of the people think that Arabic language is the language of God because 

the Qur’an is written in Arabic. They believe that in the second life all nations will speak 

in Arabic. Most of the people in my country respect Arabic language more than their own 

language. But now we have started to think in different way. I am one of these poets, but 

there are a limited number of secular poets. Because you have to be very brave to write 

on this subject. And this feeling is reflected in my poems, a few words in one poem or 

sometimes in the whole poem. You can feel this in a lot of my poems.

335 

EM: Thank you. Can you describe the different forms you use? The first one was 

2 lines. You called it methnawî. 

BS: methnawî, yes 

EM: Another one you called çuarkî. There are different types of çuarkî. 

BS: çuarkî, yes. 

EM: Sometimes the first and the third, the second and the fourth. You also 

mentioned tercîa band. Can you say something about that and what it means? 

BS: Tercîa band is two words. Tercîa means ‘repeating, to repeat something.’ It 

is an Arabic word. Band means ‘to tie something’ and it is a Persian and Kurdish word. 

Band sometimes means ‘rope.’ It means ‘belt.’ It means ‘arrested man.’ Sometimes it 

means ‘slave.’ Sometimes it means a man who is always related to some other man. That 

is why in Badinan, we say ez banî. It means ‘I am in your band, I am your servant, I am 

your slave, you are my lord.’ Can you imagine the originality of this word? 

EM: It expresses humility? 

BS: Yes. Tercîa band means when you have to repeat something and to fasten the 

last word with the whole line in the poem. 

EM: Are there any other forms that you do not use that other poets use? 

BS: Actually, I use the Classical way and the Modern way. I use both of them. 

EM: Beside methnawi, çuarkî, tercîa band, there are no other names? 

BS: There is another way. There was another way. Now nobody uses that way of 

writing a poem, which consists of a line of Kurdish―one line using the Kurdish 

language, another line using the Arabic or Persian. Melaye Cezîrî used this way in some 

poems. I haven’t used it because I try to use only Kurdish. I would say that you only find 

a very few non-Kurdish words in my poems. All of my work is written in a pure Kurdish 

language. So I didn’t use that style, mixing Arabic and Kurdish language. 

EM: Are there any forms that are uniquely Kurdish?

336 

BS: Most of our styles in writing poems―it’s the same as those used in Iran or in 

Arabic language or even in Turkish. All these nations have the same ways of writing 

poems. 

EM: And you mentioned that the meter, or the number of syllables in poems―Is 

this always the choice of the author, or do you have names for the length of lines or 

meters? 

BS: It starts from six to seven and goes up to 16; 16 is the top. It is the poet’s 

choice how to write. This we call it “the way” of the poem. But in Arabic language, there 

is something more complicated than our style. They call it bahar. Bahar means ‘the sea.’ 

There are 16 oceans or seas in Arabic language. It is so very complicated and our 

Classical poets―Kurdish poets―used these bahars, like Melaye Cezîrî. It gives the 

poems more rhythm and more music, really. It gives the poems a sort of music. It is 

something like musical tones and the time in musical notes. Every sign in musical writing 

is dependent on the time, half or quarter. When we use this 16 or 14 we…well, two things 

control us in this measurement―the vowel and the consonant. (pause in interview) 

EM: When we paused, you mentioned the special form in Arabic that is very 

difficult. We are saying that for the length of a sentence―the line in poetry―the poet is 

limited by the vowel and consonant. What were your thoughts when you said that? You 

were going to say something else. 

BS: This is the basic thing. In Arabic poems and Kurdish poems, always in the 

area of the Middle East―this is the basic measure of a poem, the “way” of the poem. 

Because as you know, any speech in the world is based on vowels and consonants. So, 

when we try to analyze any line in traditional or Classical poems, you will find the same 

number from the first line to the final line. This is the simple way of measuring the 

poems. But in Arabic, as I told you, there are the bahars. They developed something 

more complicated from this basic thing, vowels and consonants. They derived 16 aspects 

of measurements or 16 different styles of measuring the sound, such as VCCCV, VCVCVC,

337 

CVVC, and each one gives you a sort of a music. I respect this thing, but it is so difficult 

and so complicated. 

EM: In the traditional poem, what can a poet do to make a line fit the meter, for 

example, if it is 15 syllables and he wants only 14? Can he change spelling? 

BS: If you change the spelling you get something. We call it hozana, ‘poem,’ 

leng. 213 Leng describes a man who has some difficulty with his legs so that when he 

walks, he can’t walk in a normal way. So if you change the spelling, you’ll get a leng 

poem. And this is not good for a poet to have a leng. It’s a handicapped line. You have to 

change the words and find the right one which gives the same meaning with the right 

measurement of the syllables. To make the total of the line go with the other lines, 16 or 

15 or 8 or 9. It’s up to you. 

EM: Sometimes in American poetry, and I think you see this sometimes in 

Shakespeare, he will take a letter out. For example, the word “shower.” Like a rain 

shower. But it will be spelled as if it is one syllable not two. You say the word “shower” 

but when it is said in the poem its ‘show’r,’ and it’s spelled s-h-o-w-‘-r. The ‘e’ is taken 

out. Do you understand? So, can you do this in Kurdish? 

BS: Yes, we do this in Kurdish. This is because Kurdish has some subdialects. 

The people in Zaxo [where Sindî is from] speak differently from the people in Amedy 

and Akre and Dohuk. Sometimes the people in Amedy omit one letter, one sound, when 

they speak, while in Zaxo they pronounce the whole word. So our poets here or in 

Sulemaniya or in Hawler (the Kurdish name for Erbil) get an advantage from these 

differences between the subdialects. I am from Zaxo, but when the word I need doesn’t 

go with my poem, I’ll take it out and use the same word in a subdialect that consists of 

one syllable, not two, like in my subdialect. For example, I take it from Akrê or Amedîya 

and use it in my poem to go with other lines in my poem. Do you understand me now? 

213 The word hozan is another word for a poem or poetry. The word Sindî describes here is leng, or lang, 

which Chyet (2003:348) lists as meaning ‘lame, limping’ or ‘awkward.’

338 

EM: So a word has to exist already elsewhere so people understand? So you have 

to use a word from a dialect that exists? 

BS: Yes. I can give you an example about this thing. Like to say çend car tu 

hati?―çend car, which means ‘how many times,’ çend car. In Zaxo they say çend car. 

The last letter is r. Çend carA..tu hatî? Çend cara tu hatî? In Akrê or in Amedîya, they 

say çend ca tu hati? The r is omitted now. Çend ca, which means çend cara; the r is 

omitted. So if I’m writing a poem with 15, and I put çend cara, and it becomes 16, I’ll 

take out çend cara and put çend ca, because it gives the same meaning. But çend ca, so 

it’s one syllable less. There are a lot of examples which gives the poet some ability. It 

gives the chance to vary. 

EM: Yes. You said the end of the line is called qafîa. 

BS: Yes. Actually, the qafîa will be nicer and more musical if the last two letters 

are alike, not just the last one letter, as in ra. Like, you say bira, and the second line is 

dira. It means ‘a lot of areas.’ And the third line is çira. Çira means ‘why’ in some 

places. And you say, gira; it means ‘some people holding something.’ It is not just the a 

but r and a. It makes the poem stronger and more perfect. And some poets use the three 

last letters the same. This is so difficult because the alternatives will be less than one 

letter, the alternatives of words that end in the same three letters. I try to use two letters. I 

prefer to use two letters because society sometimes needs a lot of music of the poem, to 

make them listen to you. This is one of our problems, when you have a message in your 

poem. When you really care to make the people listen to you, you have to put something 

in your poem to make them listen. Sometimes it is the meaning, some brave words or 

sometimes the music itself. So I have to think in my poem, I have to dance in my poem to 

get their attention to make them listen to what I’d like to say. 

EM: On to a different subject. I believe you said something about a moment of 

time that you were feeling something so strongly that you had to write the poem as free. 

It was your first. 

BS: Yes. It was the time I wrote my first free poem. Free of ‘way’ (form)

339 

and free of qafîa. Because I couldn’t write at that time, because the subject was so 

passionate, so emotional, and I was really astonished when I had that experience. 

Everything was off. Everything was gone. That was when all the Kurdish fighters had to 

withdraw to Iran and put down their weapons, and there was no revolution. This was in 

1975 when the Shah of Iran and Saddam Hussein―they signed what they called the 

Algerian Treaty. So when I heard it, I was shocked and I couldn’t believe that everything 

was over, because Kurdish people and the fighters had been fighting for years―from ‘61 

to ’75. It was for 14 years. And I started to write my poem, and I felt, really, I can’t use 

the qafîa, I can’t cater to the vowels and consonants. So I put my poem about that subject 

in a free style, and that was my first time when I wrote in this style. And later I started to 

write some other poems in this way. 

way? 

EM: Did you say you were the first to do this? Did other Kurdish poets write this 

BS: Yes. There were some others before me who wrote Kurdish poems in 

Dohuk―not in Sulemaniya―but in Dohuk. They wrote some poems without qafîa, but 

there was measurement and ‘way.’ But I wrote at that time without qafîa and without 

‘way.’ Pure, free poem. So, that is what Mu’eyed Teyb said on the back of my book. 

EM: Can you say something about the performance style of poets? Kurdish poets 

perform their poems when they present them. They don’t just speak them; they have a 

way of saying them. Where did this way come from? Is it Kurdish? Do other cultures 

perform this way or is this a Kurdish way? 

BS: No, I can’t say it is a Kurdish way. It is something in the Middle East. The 

Persian people―they read in the same way. The Arab people read in the same way. It is a 

common way. 

EM: It’s very old, I guess. 

BS: Yes.

340 

EM: Is there anything else you think I should know about analyzing Kurdish 

poetry? Are there any other thoughts you have that will help me in analyzing Kurdish 

poetry? Things I haven’t asked you. 

BS: Yes. (pausing of recording) 

EM: What do you see as the ambition, the drive, the desire or things that poets 

past, present and future have? What they hope to gain? 

BS: In my opinion, if you put most of the Kurdish poets in the same room, 

together their ambition would be for Kurdish independence. To have our independent 

state which we call dawlet. We want to have our freedom and, according to the human 

rights, we have full right to get rid of this situation which was established by Britain after 

the First World War. We need to be just like Persian people or Turkish. We need to be an 

independent state. Some of the poets―they deal with this subject openly. Some others 

like to but don’t write about it for some political reasons maybe. Most of my poems deal 

with this subject in a symbolic way, indirectly. So, this is one of the common goals which 

all of the Kurdish poets really want to achieve in the future. 

The second subject or second desire is social freedom, to get freedom in our life, 

especially the freedom of relations between male and female in society. We have really 

severe traditions about this subject, and as I think and as I believe, the Kurdish society 

before Islam was more free than this time, because the Islam religion limits the 

relationship between male and female and love. And I think this doesn’t go with our 

nature as a Kurdish people. We need a lot of freedom. We are in the twenty-first century 

and it is still forbidden to announce―for any young man and young girl―to announce 

that they are in love. It is a crime. Girls are killed now. Some fathers, some families have 

to kill their daughters when they feel or they know that she is in love with somebody. We 

write indirectly in our poems about this subject. We condemn this type of life. It is not 

our life. Really, it is an Arabic or Islamic life which they enforced us to adopt 15 

centuries ago. If you read our history before Islam, we were more modern than now. At

341 

that time we respected women more than now. It was forbidden at that time to have two 

wives. 

The third subject is: the poets try to criticize the matter of democracy in our 

society. They talk about democracy. We believe in democracy. We respect democracy. 

We love democracy, but on earth we don’t apply democracy. We don’t apply democracy. 

Do you follow me? You can’t find democracy practically. You can’t find it. We talk 

about it. We love it. We like it, but we don’t try to have it really, and to live in it. This is 

one of our―I don’t know if this is the right word in English―but one of our duplicities. 

We have a dual personality, most of us. For instance, I write about love and I have some 

poems and songs which describe love as a nice thing and a beautiful thing. Not just me 

but this is an example. Me and other poets or other educated people. We talk about love. 

We like love; we describe love as a beautiful feeling, but we don’t let our sister love 

somebody. So this is the duplicity. What I mean is that we have double personalities 

inside us. And most poets try to criticize this sort of people. We have to adapt; we have to 

work and do according to our beliefs. But unfortunately, until now, we couldn’t establish 

such a society. I think the people in Europe and America are better than us and Eastern 

societies in this subject. When they believe in something, they exercise that thing in their 

life and they do it. 

And the fourth desire of poets, which I started―I think till now I am the only one 

in Badinan adopting this style. Or I talk about it most commonly. It is the matter of 

secularism. We should adopt secularism, and we shouldn’t mix religion and government, 

religion and school. I am not in agreement with teaching religion in schools. I am not in 

agreement with our condition now, when the teacher of religion comes to class. He says 

all the Christian people should leave now because we have a religion subject. I can’t 

stand this and I struggle against these things. How can I establish a democracy in this 

society when our education system and our teachers in schools make this sort of 

discrimination between pupils. “You go out because you are Christian. I have a special 

thing to speak to my Muslim students.” I can say this is a sort of crime, it is a social

342 

crime. So these are the main subjects which drive the real poets in Kurdistan, and in 

Badinan especially, as far as I know, which make them write their poems. 

EM: Thank you so much for your time. I enjoyed it. 

BS: Thank you. You’re welcome. Anytime.

343 

INTERVIEW WITH MIHSIN QUÇAN 

The interview was translated by Shivan Toma and was conducted at the office of Metin 

magazine. 

EM: I’ll begin with a couple of questions regarding interviewing for my research. 

Well, first, can you state your full name? 

MQ: His name is Mihsin Mihamed Xovir, but he is known as Mihsin Quçan 

EM: Is it your understanding that I am here to research for my university? 

MQ: It’s OK. 

EM: And that what comes out of this interview could possibly be published in 

my paper or a linguistic journal. 

MQ: No problem. 

EM: Thank you very much. I wondered if you could begin by telling us how your 

interest in poetry began. 

MQ: When he was eight years old, he was in a village called Barmanê. As a 

result of 1961 revolution, it’s called “September revolution,” his family moved to Mosul, 

due to the war, I mean. In Mosul he felt that he was a stranger, an outsider because he 

among the Arab children, he was the only Kurdish child. They spoke differently than 

him. Continuously he was longing for his village, his little dog, for his mountains, for 

snow and these things. So these dreams, which were lost from him in his childhood, he 

tried to visualize them in his mind, in his imagination. And day after day his imagination 

grew bigger and bigger. 

In Arab places, Arabic places, poetry is advanced there. They like poetry a lot. It’s 

just like eating and drinking, I mean. Their proverbs are all in verse and poetry. And 

when he saw himself different from them, at the same time he liked that he also has his 

own poetry which is like theirs, I mean, but different―in Kurdish. So he experienced 

homesickness for his homeland, for his village and these things; and his being among a

344 

culture in which poetry is advanced, he saw that it was a good chance for him to increase 

his knowledge about his own culture through poetry. And he continuously educated 

himself through reading poetry, studying, writing and memorizing poetry. And then he 

started to write poems. And in the 70s he published his first poems, and at the very 

beginning the critics said that a new star is shining in Kurdish poetry. So this was his 

beginning, his starting point. 

EM: Who were your favorite poets, and why do you like them? 

MQ: There’s another problem with us Kurds, that is, Kurdish people. At the 

beginning, he didn’t know anything about Kurdish poetry. But he had a friend, a 

Christian friend, his name was Theodor Yuhena. He was the first one to write some of 

Xanî’s poems for him. So at that time he liked Xanî. But after that he liked all the 

Classical Kurdish poets. But it was too late, I mean, because he already started without 

knowing anything about Kurdish poetry. But for him he regards Cezîrî the best poet, not 

only on the level of the Kurdish world, I mean, but all over the world. 

EM: Can you speak about the changes in Kurdish poetry as it developed? 

MQ: At the beginning Kurdish poetry consisted of the likes of Cezîrî, Fekir 

Tehran, Nalbend. It was written in their Classical form with one line here and one line on 

the other side. But starting from 1972, the beginning of the 70s, you can say modern 

poetry started with Mihsin Quçan, Adbulrahman Mizuri, and Feisel Mustafa. Some 

people say Mihsin Quçan came at the first. Some say, for example, the other one. But 

with these there poets, Kurdish poetry was changed into the modern style. As for Sorani 

before them, it was changed before them. Even Kurmancî 214 was changed before them in 

Syria, like Mir Amadat, but they didn’t know about each other. 

Starting from the 80s, like 1981, 1982, Kurdish poetry was just in one form. I 

mean, after it was free verse, free poetry. It was all about patriotism―national poetry. For 

example, if you said “my sweetheart,” it referred to Kurdistan. If you said, “my mother,” 

214 Quçan is likely referring to poets like Cegerxwîn who’s family fled to Syria when he was young.

345 

it was Kurdistan. But after a while, he was the first one. In the 80s, he by himself, as 

something unique for him, changed Kurdish poetry into something psychological―to 

make like a psychological revolution inside yourself. He took this angle in poetry, I 

mean. So if you see, for example, realistic poetry, there was a group of people who wrote 

realistic poetry. But he found himself alone in writing psychological poetry. And then in 

1985, he started his modern movement in poetry. He wrote about death, deterioration: the 

names are Helweşîan, ‘Deteriorated,’ Melen, 215 Bûn, ‘Being.’ These are names of his 

poems. 

And then in 1991, a huge change happened in all Kurdish people. It was 

something that was not expected, an unexpected change. All the ideas, mentalities, values 

of the Kurdish man at that time were changed and new things came in their places. All 

the educated people at that time had a socialist background, like Lenin; but at that time 

everything was deteriorating, let’s say, changing. The war against Iran was ended and the 

chemical weapons ended. America warred against Iraq so that it would come out of 

Kuwait. And the uprising started, and then the Kurdish people saw themselves as free, 

without Saddam now. And soon after, a mass immigration happened among Kurds when 

they escaped to Turkey in the mountains, and they suffered a lot of starvation and 

things―and this was another turning point in Kurdish life. And it was just like a 

nightmare or a dream, that America―which was against our beliefs, our ideas―that 

America itself came to help us and protect us. And we were peşmerga, ‘Kurdish 

military!’ So, we were in Iran and were just like rural people; but then we came into the 

civil life in cities. The Kurdish man who was low esteemed before―now he highly 

appreciated himself. 

Maybe he will make this speech long so that you will know about our 

background, why we in Iraq were in a closed society. We didn’t know anything about the 

world, through books and things. But after that―after Saddam, 216 or after the uprising 


216 Saddam Hussein, the fifth president of Iraq.

346 

you could say―satellite TV came into Kurdistan and things from Syria came. So there 

was a great opening up of the world towards Iraq. So all the norms were changed. These 

factors, which we discussed, affected the norms of writing poetry, of visualizing things― 

for example a tree, water, everything was changed. Even how to deal with your children, 

your wife, took another form. It was the other way around, it was changed. 

So this fast and successive change affected the way authors thought and wrote. In 

1994, after these changes happened, there was a civil war among the Kurdish people. In 

this year, 1994, a new movement called “Renovation Forever” grew and Mihsin Quçan 

was leading it. At this stage, mosques and religious leaders, political parties, the 

university, the whole of society with all the norms―all were like fire against this group, 

because there was a feeling of pride in this group. This group lasted not so long, only two 

years. And it was practicing everything, like civil life, in addition to writing poetry. So 

this group was finished. Some people died, some people immigrated. But its effect is still 

there, such as the poets who were under the effects of that group, as well as painters and 

those who work in the theatre. Even the religious men―when they go, for example, on 

Friday to the mosque, they admit that if there’s no renovation, there’s no life. These are 

the changes that he says happened in poetry. 

EM: You mentioned your poetry is psychological. Can you explain that and give 

an example? 

MQ: This is one example of psychological poetry, “Coming Back From Tired 

Thinking.” It’s a long poem, but, for example, the psychological effect is that the poet is 

describing, or is talking, to his sweetheart, to his beloved, saying: 

“If your eyebrows were like more (untranscribable word) and your hair was gray, 

you would be just like my mother.” So he’s making a comparison between his mother 

and his beloved. 

EM: So would you say this is just one theme of your poetry? 

1985. 

MQ: You can say it’s a theme, but it’s limited to a short period, from 1980 to

347 

EM: What are the other subjects you write about? 

MQ: He doesn’t believe in pure subject in poetry, as seen if you read his poetry, 

his poems. You can see a mixture of subjects because in the previous days in rural areas, 

for example, if you were a shepherd, you’d go outside to take care of your sheep and then 

you’d come back. But now, if we go outside in this urban setting, we don’t know what we 

will do. For example, if he goes home, maybe a neighbor will have a car accident and he 

will go to see him. Or perhaps someone has a newborn baby, or someone has died. So he 

says our feelings now are confused. We don’t have fixed style and he doesn’t have a pure 

subject to write about. And when he wrote, many times when he’d write poetry, he would 

cry and the paper would get wet. So he would tear it out and get another piece of paper, 

because a different subject would come into his mind. 

Another feature of his poetry is paradox, when two different things become just 

like each other. For example, in one of his poems he says, hatred and love inside me 

become like each other. So there were moments in his life that hatred and love are just the 

same, and also death and life. 

EM: So none of your poems are in the Neo-classical form, is that correct? 

MQ: Not all of them. 

EM: He has some in Neo-classical form? 

MQ: So this is an example that shows he has the Neo-classical form. These are 

here for documentation. 

EM: But presently you don’t write anything in Neo-classical form? 

MQ: No, now he is not a classic poet. Now he is, you can say, he’s a warrior 

against everything. For example, everything that is low he wants to make it high. And he 

doesn’t care about meter and rhythm or anything. He just leaves the image. Even the 

buildings in our city, he says, “I’m against them. I have a different idea in my mind. I live 

with them.” He sees that our buildings, our traffic lights, all things are trivial―even 

social values are trivial for him. He’s against them, I mean.

348 

EM: So strictly image, and the sounds of words are not important. Is it true? You 

translated that he said that he is writing about the images he creates with the words. So 

the sounds of words―even they’re not important. 

MQ: He doesn’t care about sounds of words, he says; it’s not something 

important for him. He can make ugly words beautiful with a new sense. In practical life 

he can, out of thorns, make a beautiful rose. 

EM: Kurds have a specific way of presenting their poetry when they speak it. 

Can he speak about this tradition? 

MQ: This is something of the individual. Everyone has their own style for 

reading poetry. He says, I read it one way, another person reads a different way. But the 

point is how to read this thing. For him, he has his own style of reading, and he is well 

known for putting music with the words. But now there is something bad in our society 

for poetry, which is reading just by eyes. Poetry is not just to be read by eyes but by 

mouth to the ear. That’s the way it should be. 

EM: Before people were writing poetry, when he lived in the village―did people 

have poetry that they remembered, and maybe fathers shared with children, and they 

spoke this way? 

MQ: He says in Kurdistan, in winter, the nights are very long. So when winter 

would come, everything would stop. You could not work outside. You would eat and 

drink and at night everybody would sit down. There were poems, of course, poetry, and 

there were stories, and there were poems for crying, for making fun, for nationalism, for 

everything. And, of course, their fathers would retell poems to children, or the 

grandfather or grandmother. There was something like that. But they would not say, for 

example, this is Nalbend’s poem or Cezîrî’s poem. They just recited the poem. 

EM: Who are the other, most popular, poets that write in this ‘new style,’ nî xaz? 

MQ: He says, those poets who write in my style, modern poetry, are Şamal 

Akrêyî, Hizirvan, Mustafa Silîma, Şikrî Şabas, Dr. Arif Hêto, Şaban Silêman recently,

349 

Sadîq Şabak, if you can call him a poet, all of them―except for Mula Tehsin, who he is a 

religious one, who thinks the change, to renew, is something like a sin. Although he’s a 

friend of his, Mula Tehsîn. But when he had his own group, Mula Tehsîn, as a religious 

man, fought them, was against them. 

EM: Just two more questions. 

MQ: You’re welcome. 

EM: Can you briefly state the different periods you spoke about, the different 

styles of Kurdish poetry, beginning with the Neo-classical? 

MQ: First Neo-classical, then free style [New Period], and then the psychological 

period, which was a short period, then modern poetry. 

EM: Is there anything else you think I should know about Kurdish poetry for my 

linguistic analysis? 

MQ: He says poetry by itself is something funny, you can say, and amusing. He 

says, when we say a word, for example, it doesn’t mean that word. It’s a figurative word; 

we mean something else. You say something but you mean something else. So maybe a 

set of images are in just one word. So when you come to do the analysis on the language 

of poetry, it is very, very different than any other types of language, like everyday 

language. He says, for example, he has a poem that he wrote right after he was released 

from prison. He says he wrote about dreams. Like in Kurdish tradition, he says, for 

example, if you see blood in your dream, it means you will depart from something. Or if 

you see that your tooth is pulled out, it means you will die or something. He says he 

collected these ideas and he put them in his poetry with a new angle, in a new way. And 

also a verse from the Qur’an―he says that when Joseph the prophet was one of the 

prisoners, he saw a dream about some people that would die. He put these ideas in his 

poems. So he says his reader should be someone who is educated, especially so that he 

understands the taste of this poetry. Not all people can read it. 

EM: Thank you for your time.

350 

MQ: No need. Not at all. No need for…thanks.

351 

INTERVIEW WITH MU’EYED TEYB 

The interview was held at Spirez Printing and was translated by Shîvan Toma. 

EM: First, can you state your name? 

MT: His name is Mu’eyed Teyb 

EM: I’ve come today ask you some questions about poetry, your life. Is it OK 

with you that I use this information in my research for my college? 

MT: I give permission for you use anything that I say for your research, for any 

kind of research. 

EM: And, it’s also your understanding that this could be published in a journal or 

my thesis? 

MT: It’s up to you. You can publish it anywhere you like, in a journal, in a book. 

EM: Thank you. Can you tell us how your interest in poetry began? 

MT: He says, at that time, we were Kurds, but we were studying in Arabic; school 

was in Arabic, in his generation. In 1970, there was peace between Barzanî and the 

government, the Iraqi government. Based on that peace treaty, one subject of Kurdish 

was studied in school. So that was the first time that he came across Kurdish poetry, 

Kurdish grammar, these things. So he was interested in Kurdish, and he liked that 

because he saw that even in Kurdish there was poetry. A collection of poems by Ahmed 

Nalbend was published at that time; it was a small one. He liked it very much, more than 

the Arabic poems that he was used to. And he felt afterwards that he also could write 

poems just like these poems. Thus he started, and the beginning, the real beginning was 

around 1974-1975. 

EM: You were in college, university by then? 

MT: No, he was in 9 th grade, in secondary school. 

EM: So, who are your favorite poets and why do you like them?

352 

MT: Kurdish, you mean? 

EM: Yes 

MT: When he first became interested in Kurdish poetry, he was introduced to 

Nalbend’s poems. At the beginning he was reading those. But after that he came across 

more modern poets like Badirxan Sindî; his language was nice, it was beautiful, and the 

content was also good. Then he moved to some Classical poets like Cezîrî and Xanî. And 

he also, he says, he liked some non-Kurdish poets, like Arabic poets. 

Concerning Cegerxwîn, he only knew of him by means of Shivan Perwar’s songs. 

He says this is a great problem for Kurdish. For Kurds―they didn’t have books about 

them. Only after that, when they were bigger, I mean older, they knew about Cegerxwîn 

and Cezîrî and others. There were no books. Because Kurds were not living freely, there 

was no freedom in Kurdistan. Maybe one poet in Dohuk was very famous, I mean, a very 

good poet. But if you would go to Erbil, nobody would know him. Or if you went to 

Mosul or Cezîre or Iran, nobody would know him. Kurds lived in a country that was not 

their own country―and the other parts were not independent―that’s why Kurds didn’t 

know each other. The second problem is the difference of dialects. For example, Sorani 

poets are not popular here. And vice versa, Bahdini poets are not popular there. Maybe 

because they cannot understand each other, that’s why. 

EM: Can you speak about the changes, the development, of poetry? What has 

been good? What has been bad? 

MT: From where till when? 

EM: From Nalbend to now. 

MT: Concerning Nalbend, he was Neo-Classical. He was attempting to write like 

Cezîrî and Xanî, but his language was more popular and his content had more variety, I 

mean, more subjects, more strategy, more extension. This was the first stage of the 

change. And Nalbend also talked about Kurdish nationality, about the movement of 

independence of Kurdistan. But as a political man, he was not that educated. Salih Yusef,

353 

you can say, was more knowledgeable about political issues than Nalbend; he was more 

aware. Then after that Badirxan Sindî and Abdulrahman Mizuri―their language differed 

from Nalbend’s language. Nalbend’s language had some Arabic words. But concerning 

Abdulrahman and Badirxan, their language was a purer Kurdish. 

Another change happened in Nalbend’s time. He was used to asking God to 

protect us and make us free. But Abdulrahman Mizuri, Badirxan Sindî and also 

Cegerxwîn―they asked people to become aware, to become educated. As for our era, our 

poetry, you know, before there was rhythm and meter and these things. But for him 

(Teyb, the interviewee), he wrote in free verse, free poetry without meter and 

(untranscribable word). In the past they were more like preachers, giving lectures to 

people. But for him, no; now he’s writing as an individual man for humanity. 

EM: Can he just mention what are the subjects of his poems? 

MT: Most of his subjects are about Kurdistan. They are either about fighting for 

their rights, for their independence and these things. And also, he has written about the 

tragedies of an individual man. Also about love, and about humanity and about 

nationality. 

EM: So, did he begin writing in form and then stopped, or did he begin with free? 

MT: In the beginning, 1974, he wrote form poetry. But since 1976, he has written 

in free verse. And regarding his form poetry, when he was in the peşmerga, ‘Kurdish 

military,’ in 1982, his family felt threatened, so they banned his poetry. So his verse 

poetry (poems with Neo-classical forms) no longer exists. There’s only one poem, which 

is here in this book. Because in 1979, the minister of information of Iraq set some limits, 

restrictions, his family prevented him from sharing and distributing his poems. That’s 

why his family was afraid in 1982; they banned them. But some young men liked his 

poetry―they memorized it. They wrote it by hand and distributed it to each other. That’s 

why some of them are still around. Of course, some of his poems have become songs. 

EM: Who do you think most influenced your poetry?

354 

MT: As a person, he cannot say anybody who influenced him. But Kurdish 

folklore songs affected him. He always feels he is indebted to them, which is there in the 

old methods and these things of Kurds. 

EM: Is there anything that you think that will be useful in my analysis of Kurdish 

poetry, or his poetry specifically? 

MT: He says you can make benefit of many printed things that are written about 

his own poetry, like masters theses and graduation papers by undergraduate students in 

4 th year and also some printed books. So you can see many like texts or subjects written 

about them. Otherwise he doesn’t know exactly what you need. But regarding the 

language of Kurdish poetry, if you start from Classical period, Ottomans and Persians, 

Afghani, these nations which were not Arabs, they were influenced by Arabic. So you 

will see many Arabic words or phrases in their language. This was about 300 to 400 years 

ago. The second stage started in the 19 th or 20 th century. Then Kurdish language was 

more pure, but it still contained a lot of Persian, Arabic and Turkish words. As for 

nowadays, you know that day after day Kurdish language is progressing, becoming more 

developed, and the number of those who write in Kurdish is much more than before. You 

know, when he started in the 1970s, until the 80s, only nine to ten people used to write in 

Bahdini, of course. But now there are hundreds because there are many magazines and 

newspapers issued in Kurdish. 

EM: Memnun, memnun, ‘Thank you, thank you.’ 

MT: Ser çava (‘over my eyes,’ an untranslatable Kurdish idiom). Thank you.

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VITA 

Edward H. Magin Jr. did his undergraduate studies in international business and 

marketing at Temple University. After working for some years in business and 

information technology, he studied linguistics at The Graduate Institute of Applied 

Linguistics and ORSIL. Currently he and his wife work for SIL. 

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