Here's a not so good translation of the Kurdish poem by Hasib Gharadaghi: "Place your lips upon mine, can't you see How thirsty and troubled I've come to be? Come, read my heart's notebook, it's a gift so pure, A treasure for your eyes, of this I'm sure. I love my pain; it's my own, you see, I'm not saddened for myself, but for thee. Don't let your gaze turn into a slaying sword, May those curls not stir my heart, be assured.
@abdiqadr3 ай бұрын
بۆ نازانی چەن تینو چەن پەشێوم❤
@aramkurdish4603 жыл бұрын
هەرگیز خەمێ بۆ خۆم ناخۆم خەمی تۆمە😞
@ramansharif27652 жыл бұрын
Chan xosha 🥺
@pubgmix23427 жыл бұрын
به راستى ده نگى وا خوش نيه من له گه ل كاك شيركو ئيشى دارتاشى كردوه . جا ئيوه گويتان له گورانى فارسى نه بوه كه ئه يلى 😍