Mem û Zîn
Absinthe, this pearly-white,
aniseed-tasting drink
Stinks but is addictive, especially
Here in Paris on the left-bank,
Near Montmartre
Where the Institut is
Where we plan, conspire,
Work out who is the traitor
Who the informer, who the liar.
aniseed-tasting drink
Stinks but is addictive, especially
Here in Paris on the left-bank,
Near Montmartre
Where the Institut is
Where we plan, conspire,
Work out who is the traitor
Who the informer, who the liar.
Anyway, I am always thirsty for absinthe.
I am always thirsty for wine too
To the extent of our boundless, limited exile
This French cultur took me wherever I pleased
But I knew, in my heart of hearts, one bullet
Waited for me, so I waved goodbye to Paris
I am always thirsty for wine too
To the extent of our boundless, limited exile
This French cultur took me wherever I pleased
But I knew, in my heart of hearts, one bullet
Waited for me, so I waved goodbye to Paris
………..
Under the wings of the laughing birds of Kurdistan
Hot kisses came to me under the hot sun
As we underwent military training
Men & women together: Sunni, Christian, Ezedi
Bound to this same soil, this same blood, this same hot sun.
Always we are, each day, prepared for death
We make death an always familiar presence.
I stop looking to far shores
The aroma, the laughter and the song of freedom
Too painful for me, an apprentice soldier,
In your arms.
I am always thirsty for wine here and absinthe
But there is no alcohol except in the occasional Christian
Or Ezedi village we pass through.
But drinking is dangerous here, we share too much sadness
One breath is for all we love.
Hot kisses came to me under the hot sun
As we underwent military training
Men & women together: Sunni, Christian, Ezedi
Bound to this same soil, this same blood, this same hot sun.
Always we are, each day, prepared for death
We make death an always familiar presence.
I stop looking to far shores
The aroma, the laughter and the song of freedom
Too painful for me, an apprentice soldier,
In your arms.
I am always thirsty for wine here and absinthe
But there is no alcohol except in the occasional Christian
Or Ezedi village we pass through.
But drinking is dangerous here, we share too much sadness
One breath is for all we love.
My next breath is for the future I suspect of treason.
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