MAHMOUD DARWISH ~

 Think of Others

As you prepare your breakfast, think of others

    (do not forget the pigeon's food).

As you wage your wars, think of others

    (do not forget those who seek peace).

As you pay your water bill, think of others

    (those who are nursed by clouds).

As you return home, to your home, think of others

    (do not forget the people of the camps).

As you sleep and count the stars, think of others

    (those who have nowhere to sleep).

As you express yourself in metaphor, think of others

    (those who have lost the right to speak).

As you think of others far away, think of yourself

    (say: If only I were a candle in the dark).

__________________________

Mahmoud Darwish

Almond Blossoms & Beyond

TRANSLATED  BY MOHAMMAD SHAHEEN

Interlink Books, 2024

MURAL ~

Wait til I pack my bag Death

my toothbrush soap after-shave and some clothes

Is the climate warm over there?

Do the seasons change in the eternal whiteness?

Or does the weather stay fixed in autumn or winter?

Will one book be enough to read in non-time?

Or should I take a library?

And what do they talk over there?

vernacular or classical?

__________________________

from MURAL

translated by John Berger & Rema Hammami

Verso, 2024

Mahmoud Darwish was the unofficial laureate of Palestine.

Darwish's poetry is an epic effort to transform the lyrics

of loss into the indefinitely postponed drama of return

EDWARD SAID

MEMORY FOR FORGETFULNESS ~

AN  ESSENTIAL  BOOK  TO  READ  RIGHT  NOW

University of California Press

MAHMOUD DARWISH ~

A Music Sentence

A poet now, instead of me,

writes a poem

on the willow of distant wind.

So why does a rose in the wall

wear new petals?

A boy now, instead of us,

sets a dove flying

high toward the cloud ceiling.

So why does the forest shed all

this snow around a smile?

A bird now, instead of us,

carries a letter

from the land of the gazelle to the blue.

So why does the hunter enter the scene

and fling his arrow?

A man now, instead of us,

washes the moon

and walks over the river's crystal.

So why does color fall on the earth

and we are naked like trees?

A lover now, instead of me,

sweeps his love

into the mire of bottomless springs.

So why does the cypress stand here

like a watchman at the garden gate?

A horseman now, instead of me,

stops his horse

and dozes under the shadow of a holm oak.

So why do the dead flock

to us out of wall and closet?

______________

Mahmoud Darwish

If I Were Another

Farrar Straus Giroux, 2009

translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah

I DON'T WANT THIS POEM TO END ~

Abandon Me Not


My homeland is your forehead, so hear me

Abandon me not

Behind the hedge

Like a wild plant,

Like an abandoned pigeon

Abandon me not

As a wretched moon

As a beggar star among the branches

Abandon me not

Free in my pain

But hold me

With a hand that pours the sun

Through the windows of my prison

Get used to burning me,

If you were mine,

With passionate love

Through my stones and olives

Through my window . . . my mud!

My country is your forehead, so hear me

Abandon me not !


translated by Mohammad Shaheen
—————————


Mahmoud Darwish
I Don't Want This Poem To End
Interlink 2017

MAHMOUD DARWISH ~

2011

E X C E R P T

KAMA SUTRA ~

A Lesson from Kama Sutra




With the drinking glass studded with lapis
wait for her,
by the pool around the evening and the rose perfume
wait for her,
with the patience of the horse prepared for mountain descent
wait for her,
with the manners of the refined and marvelous prince
wait for her,
with seven pillows stuffed with light clouds
wait for her,
with burning womanly incense filling up the place
wait for her,
with the sandalwood male scent around the backs of horses
wait for her,
and don't hurry, so if she arrives late
wait for her,
and if she arrives early
wait for her,
and don't startle the birds in her braids
and wait for her,
so that she sits comfortably in her beauty's summit in the garden
and wait for her,
so she may breathe this strange air upon her heart
and wait for her,
so she may breathe this strange air upon her heart
and wait for her,
so that she lifts her dress off her calf cloud by cloud
and wait for her,
take her to a balcony to see a moon drowning in milk
and wait for her,
offer her water, before wine, and don't
look at twin partridges sleeping on her chest
and wait for her,
slowly touch her hand
where she places the glass on the marble
as if you were carrying dew for her
and wait for her,
talk to her as a flute talks
to a frightened violin string
as if you two were witnesses to what tomorrow prepares for you
and wait for her
brighten her night ring by ring
and wait for her
until the night say to you:
You are the only two left in the universe
so take her, gently, to your desired death
and wait for her! . . .




 ____________________


Mahmoud Darwish
The Butterfly's Burden
(Copper Canyon 2007)
translated from the Arabic by Fady Joudah

BACK ROAD CHALKIE ~

Once In Vermont film
© bob arnold

MAHMOUD DARWISH ~

Mahmoud Darwish is one of the poetic legends of the Arab World (1941-2008)

Put your name in my hand and write

please click on image to enlarge

translated from the Arabic by Jeffrey Sacks
Archipelago Books
www.archipelagobooks.org

MAHMOUD DARWISH









HE WHO WAITED FOR NO ONE



He waited for no one. He felt no lack in existence.
Before him a river, ashen as his overcoat,
and sunlight filling his heart with awakening brightness
and the tall trees.


He felt no defect in the place. The wooden seat, his coffee,
the glass of water, the strangers;
everything in the cafe the same.


Nothing had changed. Even the newspapers
yesterday's news, and an old world floating as usual on the dead.
He felt no need for hope to amuse him
like the unknown growing green in the desert
or some wolf longing for a guitar.


He expected nothing, not even a surprise,
he could not cope with repetition.
I knew the end of the journey from the first step,
he says to himself,
I have not withdrawn from the world,
nor have I gotten closer to the world.


He waited for no one, and he felt no defect
in his senses. Autumn was still his royal host,
luring him with music that returned him
to a golden age of awakening,
to poetry rhyming with stars and space.


He waited for no one in front of the river


In the no-waiting, I become an in-law to the sparrow.
In the no-waiting, I become a river—he said—
I am not hard on myself.
I am not hard on anyone.


And I escape the serious question:
What do you want
What do you want?




translated by Mohammad Shaheen

democracynow.org

Known as the Palestinian national poet, Mahmoud Salem Darwish was born in 1941 in al-Birwah, a village in the city district of Western Galilee, in Palestine, to a farming family, and passed away during the summer of 2008 in Houston, Texas.