Poetry International Poetry International
Poem

Myriam Montoya

GUL GONAL

In your left hand you prop the other elbow
The free hand is like a serpent
Dancing both sensual and menacing
Impossible to be at the same time
A woman and stateless
Kurdistan is an inherited dream
Making yourself a proscript
One day you will be able to go back to Izmir
You will see the vineyards and the sea
The adorned balcony of the bride and groom
Perhaps your brothers will already be free
Singing poems of Nassim Hikmet
Your name that does not admit tears
Will forget the daily sixteen-hour journeys
Making thousands and thousands
Of collars and cuffs
During so many years
In a Paris textile factory
And this journey of uprooting
Will be like a dream.

GUL GONAL

GUL GONAL

En la mano izquierda posas el otro codo
Esa mano libre es una serpiente
Danzando entre sensual y amenazadora
Imposible ser a un tiempo
Mujer y apátrida
El Kurdistán es sueño heredado
Haciéndote proscrita
Un día podrás regresar a Izmir
Verás los viñedos y la mar
El balcón adornado de novios
Quizá ya estarán libres los hermanos
Cantando versos de Nassim Hikmet
Tu nombre que no admite lágrima
Olvidará las jornadas de dieciséis horas diarias
Confeccionando cuellos y puños
Por miles por millares
Durante tantos años
En una fábrica textil de París
Y será como un sueño
Esta expedición del destierro.
Close

GUL GONAL

In your left hand you prop the other elbow
The free hand is like a serpent
Dancing both sensual and menacing
Impossible to be at the same time
A woman and stateless
Kurdistan is an inherited dream
Making yourself a proscript
One day you will be able to go back to Izmir
You will see the vineyards and the sea
The adorned balcony of the bride and groom
Perhaps your brothers will already be free
Singing poems of Nassim Hikmet
Your name that does not admit tears
Will forget the daily sixteen-hour journeys
Making thousands and thousands
Of collars and cuffs
During so many years
In a Paris textile factory
And this journey of uprooting
Will be like a dream.

GUL GONAL

In your left hand you prop the other elbow
The free hand is like a serpent
Dancing both sensual and menacing
Impossible to be at the same time
A woman and stateless
Kurdistan is an inherited dream
Making yourself a proscript
One day you will be able to go back to Izmir
You will see the vineyards and the sea
The adorned balcony of the bride and groom
Perhaps your brothers will already be free
Singing poems of Nassim Hikmet
Your name that does not admit tears
Will forget the daily sixteen-hour journeys
Making thousands and thousands
Of collars and cuffs
During so many years
In a Paris textile factory
And this journey of uprooting
Will be like a dream.
Sponsors
Gemeente Rotterdam
Nederlands Letterenfonds
Stichting Van Beuningen Peterich-fonds
Ludo Pieters Gastschrijver Fonds
Lira fonds
Partners
LantarenVenster – Verhalenhuis Belvédère