August 14, 2009

In Memory of Mahmoud Darwish

Photo: Dreamer




On this Land, there's what's worth living



There’s on this land
what is worth living,
The recurring of April,
the smell of bread at dawn,
A woman’s amulet for men ,
Aeschylus’s writings,
the beginning of love,
Grass on a stone,
mothers standing on the thread of a flute,
and the invaders fear of memories.
There’s on this land what is worth living,
The end of September,
A lady leaving the forties
with all its apricot,
The hour of sunlight in prison,
Clouds imitating a flock of creatures,
A people’s cheers for those going up
to their doom, smiling
and the tyrants fear of songs.
There’s on this land what is worth living,
There’s on this land,
the lady of lands,
the mother of the beginnings
and of the ends.
It was called Palestine
Its name later became Palestine
My lady: I deserve,
since you’re my lady,
I deserve life


Mahmoud Darwish

translation: Dreamer

3 comments:

Edita said...

"Writing is a small ant which bites extinction.
Writing is a bloodless wound.

Our cups of coffee, and the birds, and the green trees
with the blue shade, and the sun leaping from wall
to wall like a doe
and the waters in the skies of infinite shapes, in what is left to us
of sky…and other matters the memory of which has been put on hold
prove that this morning is strong and beautiful
and that we are guests of evermore"
(from State of Siege)

Eric said...

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Dreamer said...

Thanks a lot and happy new year to you and your family too