Comments: Death of a Poet: Mahmoud Darwish

One of the saddest days in the sad journey of Palestininan people.
Though he did not live to see his land free of occupation, hope, his soul will RIP.


While Exile is still exile?

They knew their way to its end,
and they dreamt it.

They returned from their future to their present,
and they knew what would would happen to the
songs in their throats.

They dreamt of carnations on the fences of the houses
in their new place of exile.

They knew what would happen to hawks if they
settled in palaces.

They dreamt of the struggle of their narcissus with
Paradise
if it becomes their place of exile.

They knew what would happen to the swallow
when the spring sets it on fire.

They dreamt of the fitful spring of their feelings
and they knew what would happen
when their dream rose up from a dream
knowing
it was only a dream.

They knew and dreamt and returned and dreamt.

They knew and returned and returned and dreamt.

They dreamt and returned.

Paris 1989

from: I see what I want to see
(Translated by Husain Haddawi)


Posted by Rupa Shah at August 9, 2008 09:41 PM

Prof Chazelle: The poems you have posted are so BEAUTIFUL, in spite of the sadness, I have a choking sensation in my throat!

Posted by Rupa Shah at August 9, 2008 10:55 PM