To Exiled Poet Mahmud Darwish Poem by sultan mahmud

O exiled poet, I wanted to write a poem about you
But I am not in exile like you
I do not know how the pain of deportation?
As you know before you understand anything.
The memory of Galileo still plays in your imagination
Rows of olive trees, oranges, nuts, vineyards, plains, seashore
I can't give you back your country
I can only awaken the memories of your past.
O exiled poet, I do not know the pain of exile
But I have heard many stories of exile.
As Prophet Joseph was exiled,
to Egypt from the abyss of the well
In the same way, you have become exiled
to your own land, to another land.
Poet, this exile has been going on since time immemorial
Greed for glittering power, greed for land, greed for gold, greed for oil.
The bitter history of exile in the layers of the world.
Forty-seven, seventy-one last on the bloody border of the Naf River.
Poet, you can say that is why you have said the pain of your exile
But how many others have been able to uncover the history of his suffering?
O exiled poet, I have not seen Palestine
I read your poem
Your poem is Palestinian to me
Your wrath is Palestine to me
The pain of your deportation is Palestine to me. Your poem is the map of Palestine
They want to delete the name of Palestine
But every line of your poem will awaken Palestine Your heart is like the heart of Palestine!
That heart represents the exiled people of the world.