Paroles et traduction Sivan Perwer - Nalînek Tê Guhê Min

Nalînek Tê Guhê Min

Dengek hat guhê min ji binê zinaran
Nalîna şêrekî ku birîndar bû
Bi ser birîna xwe da kûr dinalîya
Birîna wî ji dil jî gelek xedar bû

Dilop dilop xwîn ji birînê dihat xwar
Axa sar û tarî hêdî vedixwar
Teyr û tû bi ser da dikirin hawar
Dar û ber jana dil histuxwar mabûn

Kela dilê wî bû weke volkana
Rêza çiya û bera ji ber dihejîya
Weke talaz rabe li ser havîya
Weke bahoz û tofanek radibû
Birîna şêrê me hewqas xedar bû
Ew şêrên kurdistan'ê ne bê xwedî ne
Gelê cîhan doza wan bi rast dibîne
Doza wan jî parekî doza xwe dibîne
Ew karker, cotkar, rêncber, pale û gundî nin
Mafê çînî û çarenûsî divên pêk bînin
Divên rizgar bikin gel ji bin lep û destan
Lew nalîna şêrê me tê ji çiya û baniyan
Herkes xelas jîndar û nas li ser kurdistan
Da ku êdî kes nenale ji êş û birînan
Gelê kurdistan
Karkerno, gundîno, dayikno, bavno
Bukno, keçno, xortno
Gelekin ji şîr dimijin, hemu mirov
Welatê me di nava xwînê de yê
Mirovên me li îşkencexanande
Li ber darê kindirê tên xenikandin
Ewrên reş roj bi roj tarîtir di be
Cem û şad xumxumê nakin
Dengê çuk, şalil û bilbila na yê
Dengên kewanê şêrîn û delal wenda bu yê
Qerîna şîrmijan bi feryadî
Di nava xeliyê û dumanê da ye
Gul û kulilk, nêrgiz, rêhan û binevş
Behn u rengê xwe wenda kirin ê
Ev çi rewşe, ev çi dibe
Ezmanê welatê min xwe reş giredanê, ji bo çi?

Groan That Reaches My Ear

A sound reached my ear from under the ash trees.
The groaning of a lion that had been wounded
It was deeply moaning over its wound.
The wound on its heart was much deeper, though.

Drop by drop, blood dripped from the wound.
The light-yellow dirt slowly drank it up.
Birds and partridges cried out over it,
The trees and shrubs were deeply moved.

The cave of its heart was like a volcano.
Rows of mountains and cliffs were shaking from its pain.
Like waves crashing down on a sea,
Like a storm and tempest, it was raging.
The wound of our lion was that deep.
These lions of Kurdistan, they are not forgotten.
The people of the world truly see their suffering,
And their suffering is also a part of our suffering,
They are not just laborers, farmers, shepherds, nomads, and villagers,
They deserve rights and justice, but they are denied them.
They must liberate the people from oppression,
Thus, my lion's cry comes to us from the mountains and the highlands.
Everyone is safe and sound, and aware of Kurdistan,
So that no one else would cry out from pain and wounds.
People of Kurdistan,
Laborers, villagers, mothers, fathers,
Boys, girls, children,
We all drink from the milk of the lion,
Our country is drowning in blood.
Our people are being tortured,
They are being hanged from the gallows.
The dark clouds grow darker day by day,
There is no more joy or pleasure,
The sound of lullabies, songs, and nightingales cannot be heard.
The sweet and delightful voices of swallows are gone.
The roaring of a lion, crying,
Is among the ruins and the smoke.
Flowers, lilies, narcissuses, basil, and violets,
Have lost their fragrance and color.
What is this situation, what is happening?
The tongues of my country have turned black, why?