Jabal Kurd flower

My life was beautiful, my son, and when we learned what death means, my love for life doubled. Kurdistan seems smaller in my eyes. I imagine myself jumping across it in one leap from Taurus to Zakho and Mahabad, all at once. And I grew up, and death moves away from me with every long Kurdistan war. And now I am a cowardly old man afraid of death. Imagine, my son! Even though I cannot jump a single leap in a Kurdish dabke, and my ears cannot bear a joyful melody. I am afraid of death.