Absinthe, this pearly-white,

Clouded, 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

...........

Under the wings of the laughing birds of Kurdistan

Hot kisses came to me, occasionally, under the hot sun

As we underwent military training

Men & women together: Sunni, Christian, Ezedi

Bound to this same soil, this same hot sun.

.......

Always good we are, each day, we prepare for death

Make death an always familiar presence.

I stop looking to far shores

The aroma, laughter and song of freedom is

Too painful to me, an apprentice soldier,

Between 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 hope.