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Mahmoud Darwish.


Active Member
Poet and journalist, an interpreter of the exile and hopes of the Palestinian people. Darwish's major theme in his poems is the fate of his homeland.
Darwish started to write poems while still at school. His first collection appeared in 1960 when he was only nineteen. With the second collection (1964), he gained a reputation as one of the leading poets of the resistance.
Darwish often addresses the reader arguing fiercely, defending, and pleading, as a prophetic voice from a large supporting choir. He has described the conflict between Palestinians and Israelis as "a struggle between two memories."

:star4: A selected Poem (2000) - Muhammad

Living on his father's lap
frightened by the sky's inferno: Protect me father
from flying above, my wing is too
small for the wind... and the light is pitch-black.

wants to return home
without a bicycle or a new shirt.
Wants to go to the school bench
to the syntax and etymology notebook.
Take us to our home,dad,so i may prepare for my
studies and continue my living little by little over
the sea shore,under the palm tree and
nothing farther,nothing farther.

His death was inescapably coming but he remembered
seeing a leopard on the television screen and when the
leopard approached the poisoned milk,he did not covet
it as if the milk is going to tame
savagery. Therefore ,i will escape the boy
said, weeping: My life is hidden in my mom's closet.
I will escape....and bear witness.

A poor angle with an arm reach of a cold blooded hunter.
From the hour when the cameras focused on the child's
lonely movements, in his own shadow, his conspicuous
face as dawn,and conspicuous heart as an apple,and his
conspicuous fingers as candle and whatever was above
his pants was conspicuous.
His hunter(murderer )had the
option of re-thinking and saying:
Let me leave him
until he learns to pronounce his Palestine
Let me leave him now and kill him
whenever he become a maverick.

Small Jesus sleeps and dreams inside the heart of a
holy picture made out of brass.
Out of olive branch
Out of renewed people's spirit.

Surplus of blood more than what the prophets need.
Ascend to the final fame.
Oh Muhammad.
**** Muhammad
Facing an army without having a stone
or any planet's shrapnel-s.
He didn't write it, it was written for him on the wall.
My liberty will not die,
but i will die defending my liberty.
No horizon will even shield Babel's pigeons.
And still born a boy with a name that
carries condemnation along with it.
How many more times will boys be born
minus a country minus a childhood tryst.
He will dream if the dream comes
and the land is lacerated.