Late Spring
J
0
Pela Zêrîn
The moon drained white by day
lifts from the hill
where the old pear-tree fallen in storm
springs up in blossom still.
Women believe in the moon:
this branch I hold
is not more white and still than she
whose flower is ages old,
and so I carry home
flowers from the pear
that makes such obstinate tokens still
for fruit it cannot bear.
Wergereke vê helbestê zêde bike ·
Vê helbestê puan bike
Hê xal nehatiye dayîn
Şîrove
Ji bo şîrovekirinê divê tu têkevî.
TêkeveHê ti şîrove li ser vê helbestê nehatiye kirin. Tu yê yekem be.