Death is Dancing (by Rayen Kvyeh)

The other day, Rayen Kvyeh sent me some poems – they have their own beauty and I feel sorry that the translation cannot fully transport it. I met Rayen recently – it had been an event organised together with and by Kurds – I am greatful to Orhan who invited me to join for this event.

It is this own beauty that nearly forces me to translate another of the poems (one can be already found here) – but it is also the …, well: work, engagement that is currently occupying much of my thinking. And determining my life – permanently crossing borders, making me aware of the limitations, permantly being caught in the cage of my own life, evoking to burst the chains open, crossing the borders.

And encouring me …

All this is also about the experiences made: working in Taiwan; in Australia, being so close to the question of aborigins and PNG; having been in Japan …, but also being involved in “our daily Western struggles” – for me now from Benno Ohnesorg to the fires today.

… and hopefully encouring you ….

Thank you both, Rayen and Orhan! And Thank You, the other …


Death is dancing

At the table

Of the powerful round

They applaud and remain silent,

Remain silent and applaud

In the shadow

Of White Laws


Silence is interrupted

Within the walls of bars.

The hunger strike

Is vibrating through the veins

Of the Mapuche, imprisoned on political grounds

Patricia Troncoso’s

In her black plaits

The silence ensnarls –

The silence of the voices of the ancestors


Death is Dancing

… dancing across the Christmas trees

Trees of artificial snow

And colourful light


Silence is broken

The hunger strike

Vibrates along the ways

Solidly united

Crossing borders

Breaking through barriers


The Llaima bursts.

Disrupts the silence.

Spitting the fire.


Spitting the stones.

The red bellow

Of the fervent magma

Razing the mountains.


Death is Dancing

On the Libra of justice

Of the powerful round.

The laws are dancing.

New Year.

New weapons.

Hard hand – white hand

Terrorist – white mind

Hard valuta – gain for the white.

Death is dancing.

The Laws are dancing

Drunken in champagne and wine.


Silence is broken.

The hunger strike

Is riding across captured roads

Is riding across the territory of the Mapuche


Death is dancing

At the desk

Of the powerful round

Dancing – the weapons.

Death is dancing.

The killing bullet

Aiming on the back.

Matías Catrileo is dead.


Death is dancing

On the table

Of the powerful round.

The terrorists are dancing

The last Cueca.

The laws are dancing

Singing the anthem.



Patricia Troncoso’s

In her black plaits

The silence ensnarls –

The silence of the voices of the ancestors.

The silence breaks

Through the wind’s voices

Lemun, Catrileo, Epul


From the four corners of the earth.


Matías Catrileo is falling

Kissing the soil.

The voices of the winds

Are breaking the silence

His eyes close

And illuminate

The wide and narrow paths


The voices of the ancestors

Are breaking through the silence

Matías Catrileo walks

Across the four potencies of the earth.

Again: Thank you both, Rayen and Orhan! And Thank You, …, the other.
The melancholy is just its opposite: the power gained for moving on.

Un pensiero riguardo “Death is Dancing (by Rayen Kvyeh)


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