Icicles / A poem by: Ameena Zikree

Translated by: Shamal Akrayi

In the shadows homelands,

A moment of your memories makes me unconscious

 Take my hands

In my imagination

You incessantly become greater

And I become little.

In this place,

The deserts are rainless.

A cold country cannot satisfied our separation

At all evenings,

I perform some prayers for God

 Persuading your passion to hug me

I persuade my eyes to stare at your smiles.

As a self I am a mad person

In the village of your eyes

I quietly wandered

I cannot put you out of my mind

 Your fingers, in all corners of my live

 Have recorded a legend

So I am full of you

How many times should I perform prayers on you?

How many times should I paint

my imagination with our silent wanders?

No, afterwards I cannot dream of you

I cannot anymore count the beads of my grandmother’s rosary

I cannot compose stories for God.

 Take my hands,

To fill yourself of me

To fill yourself with my passion.

 Let’s build a ship and depart from the shadow homeland

 Let’s fill up our boots with stars

 Let’s mix all the colors

 Let’s steal the passion and hide it in our pockets.

 Come on,

 Let’s play melodies on the shoulders of the rain and then sleep

 Let’s steal Arda 1

 Let’s stretch out his rug on Arsho 2 chest.


1- Arda: An angel in Zoroaster religion.

2- Arsho: A Medes Leader.

 Amina Zikree in Brief:

– Born in migration in Asfahan- Iran in 1979.

– Originally she is from Nerwa district- Duhok.

 Graduated from Arts College – Duhok University.-

– Member of Kurdish Writers Union – Duhok.

 Publishe a number of articles in variety of Kurdish papers and magazines.-

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