A State of Siege
Awoman asked the cloud: please enfold my loved one
My clothes are soaked with his blood
If you shall not be rain, my love
Saturated with fertility, be trees
And if you shall not be trees, my love
Be a stone
Saturated with humidity, be a stone
And if you shall not be a stone, my love
Be a moon
In the loved one’s dream, be a moon
So said a woman to her son
In his funeral
During the siege, time becomes a space
That has hardened in its eternity
During the siege, space becomes a time
That is late for its yesterday and tomorrow
The Adam of Two Edens
|Mahmoud Darwish, whose poetry his fellow Palestinians embraced as the voice of their suffering, died on Saturday, August 9, 2008, after heart surgery in Texas. Click here to read more...|
The enemy who drinks tea in our hovel
has a horse in smoke, a daughter with
thick eyebrows, brown eyes and long hair
braided over her shoulders
like a night of songs.
He's never without her picture
when he comes to drink our tea
but he forgets to tell us about her nightly chores.
about a horse of ancient melodies
abandoned on a hilltop.
Relaxing in our shack, the enemy
slings his rifle over my grandfather's chair
eats our bread like any guest
dozes off for a while on the wicker couch
then, as he stoops to pat our cat on the way out,
says:" Don't blame the victim."
" And who might that be?" we ask
" Blood that won't dry in the night."
© Mahmoud Darwish
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