Mahmoud Darwish Poems

This road takes me; a horse guiding a horseman
A traveler like me cannot look back
I have walked far enough to know
where autumn begins:
there, behind the river,
...

He dreams of white lilies,
an olive branch,
her breasts in evening blossom.
He dreams of a bird, he tells me,
...

If you find yourself alone, tell yourself:
Exile has altered its features…
...

The violins weep with the Gypsies heading for Andalusia,
the violins cry for the Arabs departing Andalusia.
The violins cry for a lost epoch that will not return,
The violins cry for a lost homeland that could be regained.
...

On a day like this, in a hidden corner
of a church, in full feminine magnificence,
...

Here the birds' journey ends, our journey, the journey of words,
and after us there will be a horizon for the new birds.
...

It is night and she is lonely
and I am lonely like her,
...

They gagged his mouth,
Bound his hands to the rock of the dead
And said: Murderer!
They took his food, clothes and banners,
...

I didn't apologize to the well as I passed by it.
I borrowed a cloud from an ancient pine and squeezed it
...

And we, too, have the right to love the last days of autumn and ask:
Is there room in the field for a new autumn, so we may lie down like coals?
...