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poetsfrompalestine.blogspot.com

Poets From Palestine: I Shall Return

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Jan 10, 2010. I lament the land of my birth,. The spot of beauty on this earth;. But nobody hears my lamentation,. Though I wall across all creation! I am rejected, deprived, compelled. To roam everywhere, exiled, expelled:. I walk the streets of every town;. I am denied, and left to drown. They deny me the air, the water, the shade,. And want me to vanish, to die, to fade:. They have plundered my plough and furrow. And even the hope of a fruitful tomorrow;. But although everything seems to burn,.

poetsfrompalestine.blogspot.com

Poets From Palestine: Psalm 6

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Jan 10, 2010. Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. The trees of my country make a practice of greenness,. While I practice memory. Voice in the wilderness. Turns away towards the sky, and kneels:. I am not so sad,. And yet those who do not know trees. Do not love birds. And he knows no surprises. Who makes a habit of lying. I am not so sad,. And yet he knows not lying. Who has not known fear. I am not so shrunk. And yet it is the trees that are tall. Ladies and gentlemen,.

poetsfrompalestine.blogspot.com

Poets From Palestine: Psalm 3

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Jan 10, 2010. Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. The day my words were. I was a friend to ears of wheat. The day my words were. I was a friend to chains. The day my words were. I was a friend to the earthquakes. The day my words were. I was the friend of the optimist. When my words became. Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom). UNESCO Chair on Human Rights and Democracy. Master and Ph.D. thesis. I Shall Never Cry. Here We Shall Stay. Hands off Our People. Enemies of the Sun.

poetsfrompalestine.blogspot.com

Poets From Palestine: Children Bearing Stones

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Jan 10, 2010. With stones in their hands,. They defy the world. And come to us like good tidings. They burst with anger and love, and they fall. While we remain a herd of polar bears:. A body armored against weather. Like mussels we sit in cafes,. One hunts for a business venture. One for another billion. And a fourth wife. And breasts polished by civilization. For a lofty mansion. One traffics in arms. One seeks revenge in nightclubs. One plots for a throne, a private army,. Ah, generation of betrayal,.

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Poets From Palestine: Hadeel’s Song

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Jan 10, 2010. Some words are hard to pronounce. He-li-cop-ter is most vexing. A-pa-che or Co-bra is impossible). But how it can stand still in the sky. I cannot understand—. What holds it up. What bears its weight. Not clouds, I know). It sends a flashing light—so smooth-. It makes a deafening sound. There are holes in the wall by my bed). And I have a hard time sleeping. I felt ashamed when I wet my bed, but no one scolded me). Plane—a word much easier to say—. It flies, tayyara,. My mother told me.

poetsfrompalestine.blogspot.com

Poets From Palestine: I am Jenin

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Jan 10, 2010. And my heart aches with the taste of fear, the smell of vanquishing hatred,. Blood spilled and smeared in the toy-strewn rubble, puddled in the dust. Of where I used to live. And I still hold in my hand. The keys to my father’s empty ransacked home. Crowded, teeming with life,. But my children’s’ bellies are distended with hunger,. Their eyes huge with anger and fear. And Acra, the stones of ancient arches now crushed underfoot. My shrines desecrated, my women raped,. Is of you, Jenin,.

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Poets From Palestine: Homeland

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Jan 10, 2010. Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. Suspend me on the tresses of a date palm. I shall not betray the palm. This land is mine and long ago,. In good mood and in bad, I’d milk the camels. My homeland is no bundle of legends. It is not a memory, not a field of crescent moons. My homeland is not some story or anthem,. Not light on the boughs of some jasmine bush. My homeland is the anger of the exile at being made to grieve,. A child wanting festivities and a kiss.

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Poets From Palestine: Composing poetry and verse

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Jan 10, 2010. Composing poetry and verse. Composing poetry and verse. In the coffins of my beloved ones, I sing. For my little ones’ swings:. My father’s blood is mine, so wait. Day is the end of the night. My father’s friend, his scythe, lies there,. For me to water with stars’ rays. To ready it for the harvest to reap. Every evil in a heap. My job, Sir? Composing poetry and verse. None but your grace. You don’t read? Pardon me sir, for newspapers. Songs, and anthems are your echo proper.

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Poets From Palestine: Psalm 16

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Jan 10, 2010. Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. I toy with time. As an emir caresses a horse. I play with the days. As children play with coloured marbles. The passing of a day on the previous one. And tomorrow I shall celebrate. The passing of two days on yesterday. I drink the toast of yesterday. In remembrance of the coming day. And thus I carry on my life. When I fell from my mettlesome horse. And broke my arm,. My finger, wounded a thousand year ago,. I Shall Never Cry.