Zhila Husseini

Born in Saqgiz, Iranian Kurdistan, in 1964, she published only one poetry collection titled “The growth of love,” in 1985. She died in a car accident on September 26, 1996. Another collection of poems, short stories and other writings was published posthumously in 1998 under the title, “The castle of secrets.”


When a flower falls

and the nightingale weeps,

the sun dies at that time

and the world wears a black dress.

The rivers die,

the heart of the earth

cracks in many places,

and its lips dry up.

Haven’t you seen how it pours soil on its own head?

When a lover dies, a sad lover weeps

and puts a bunch of flowers

on the grave of his beloved.

But, when my heart died, nobody knew,

nobody shed a single tear

during its funeral.

They led me by the hand,

and made my heartless body dance.


When you take a pretty girl

to your room as your bride,

I beg you, be aware

lest she smells the fragrance of my fingers

on the vases and window-frames.

If she told you that she smells a fallen flower,

say: “Sweetheart! Be sure, there isn’t

a flower in this world but you.”

Don’t mention my name

lest you drive away happiness from your room.

If it happened that once you saw a woman

who covers her form with grief,

who has sad eyes and dry lips,

and you recognized me in her,

don’t be startled,

don’t say that you keep a picture of her

in your album, as a memento.

Translated by Farhad Shakely

COPYRIGHT 2005 Kurdish Library

COPYRIGHT 2005 Gale Group