[To the memory of Iyad, my friend, who was shot on his land by foreign troops. He did not believe that revolutionaries should wear cologne, for some reason. It so bothered him that I always wore cologne. During his funeral, an idiot cleric (invited by his family) started railing against communists and atheists (Iyad was a Marxist atheist) so we his friends threw the cleric out. I was in highschool. As`ad]
From the poem He Returned in a coffin by Palestinian poet Mahmud Darwish (my translation):
"They talk in my country
they talk melancholically
about my friend
who left and returned
in a coffin
His name was..
don't mention his name!
Keep it in our hearts..
Don't let the word
get lost in the air,
like ashes..
Let it like a fresh wound..
Without bandages ever...
I fear my dear..
I fear, oh orphans..
I fear that we forget him
amid the crowd of names
I fear that he dissolves
in the tornados of winter!
I fear that our wounds
go to sleep in our hearts..
I fear that they sleep!!
...Don't ask when he will return
Don't ask a lot
But ask: When will
the men wake up!"