Monday, May 17, 2004

From Palestinian poet, Mahmud Darwish's Ahmad Az-Za`tar (my translation):
"...and rising toward the convergence of the dream
seats shrink under my trees, and your shadow...
those who climb on your wounds like seasonal flies disappear
and those who watch your wounds disappear
So remember me before I forget my hands!
And my interpretations to the butterflies
and the rocks are my letters on earth
my house is not Trojan
and my time is not a pillow
and I rise from the dryness of bread and the confiscated water
from a horse that got lost on the way to the airport
and from the wind of the sea, I rise
from the shrapnels that got addicted to my body
and I rise from the eyes of those coming to the sunrise of the plain
I rise from the vegetables' crates
and the strength of things I rise
I belong to my first sky and to the poor in every alley
[who are] chanting
staying steadfast
and staying steadfast
and staying steadfast
...Oh, the name of eyes and the marble echo
Oh, Ahmed who was born from stone and Thyme
you shall say: No
You shall say: No"