Mahmoud Darwish Poems

Who am I to say to you
what I say to you?
I was not a stone polished by water
and became a face
nor was I a cane punctured by the wind
and became a flute...

I am a dice player,
...

I am a woman. No more and no less
I live my life as it is
thread by thread
and I spin my wool to wear, not
to complete Homer's story, or his sun.
...

With dynamite she raps her waist…
She explodes…
...

I see what I want in the farm ... right now I see
braids of wheat combed by the wind, and I close my eyes
...

Between Rita and my eyes
There is a rifle
And whoever knows Rita
Kneels and plays
To the divinity in those honey-colored eyes.
And I kissed Rita
...

He embraces his murderer.
May he win his heart: Do you feel angrier if I survive?
...

A passenger on the bus says…
nothing impresses me.
...

I have a seat in the abandoned theater
in Beirut. I might forget, and I might recall
the final act without longing … not because of anything
other than that the play was not written
skillfully …
...

I am Yousuf, O father.
O father, my brothers do not love me nor want me among them.
They assault me and throw stones and words at me
They want me to die so they can eulogize me.
...

It is possible…
It is possible at least sometimes…
It is possible especially now
To ride a horse
Inside a prison cell
And run away…
...