R.I.P. Mahmoud Darwish
The incredible Palestinian poet and writer
Mahmoud Darwish, has died at the age of 67.
I first encountered his poetry while in Paris:
Mahmoud Darwish, has died at the age of 67.
I first encountered his poetry while in Paris:
- Record!
- I am an Arab
- And my identity card is number fifty thousand
- I have eight children
- And the nineth is coming after a summer
- Will you be angry?
- Record!
- I am an Arab
- Employed with fellow workers at a quarry
- I have eight children
- I get them bread
- Garments and books
- from the rocks..
- I do not supplicate charity at your doors
- Nor do I belittle myself at the footsteps of your chamber
- So will you be angry?
- Record!
- I am an Arab
- I have a name without a title
- Patient in a country
- Where people are enraged
- My roots
- Were entrenched before the birth of time
- And before the opening of the eras
- Before the pines, and the olive trees
- And before the grass grew
- My father.. descends from the family of the plow
- Not from a privileged class
- And my grandfather..was a farmer
- Neither well-bred, nor well-born!
- Teaches me the pride of the sun
- Before teaching me how to read
- And my house is like a watchman's hut
- Made of branches and cane
- Are you satisfied with my status?
- I have a name without a title!
- Record!
- I am an Arab
- You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors
- And the land which I cultivated
- Along with my children
- And you left nothing for us
- Except for these rocks..
- So will the State take them
- As it has been said?!
- Therefore!
- Record on the top of the first page:
- I do not hate poeple
- Nor do I encroach
- But if I become hungry
- The usurper's flesh will be my food
- Beware..
- Beware..
- Of my hunger
- And my anger!
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