Ghassan Zaqtan

(1954 / Beit Jala / Palestine)

Ghassan Zaqtan Poems

1. That Life 10/13/2014
2. Collective Death 10/13/2014
3. Will They Believe 10/13/2014
4. You'Re Not Alone In The Wilderness 10/13/2014
5. Alone And The River Before Me 10/13/2014
6. The One You Accidentally Found In The Mirror 10/13/2014
7. The Absentee's Song 10/13/2014
8. Black Horses 10/13/2014
9. Additions To The Past 10/13/2014
10. The Trench 10/13/2014
11. Guide 10/13/2014
12. Handkerchief 10/13/2014
13. An Enemy Descends The Hill 10/13/2014
14. The Camp Prostitute 10/13/2014
15. Beirut, August 1982 10/13/2014
16. A Young Man From Al-Jaheer Expresses His Regrets… 10/13/2014
17. Four Sisters From Zakaria 10/13/2014
18. Remembering Fatima 10/13/2014
19. The Bird Follows Me 10/13/2014
20. Cavafy's Builders 10/13/2014
21. Carving On Wood 10/13/2014
22. The Stranger In His Icon 10/13/2014
23. Ancient Alleyways 10/13/2014
24. He Wasn'T Sleeping 10/13/2014
25. He Thought Long Of Going Back There 10/13/2014
26. Everything As It Was 10/13/2014
27. Darkness 10/14/2014
28. Remembering The Grandmother 10/13/2014
29. The Sleeper's Song 10/13/2014
30. A Picture Of The House At Beit Jala 10/13/2014
31. Family Heirlooms 10/14/2014
32. Pillow 10/13/2014
33. Wolves 10/13/2014

Comments about Ghassan Zaqtan

  • Mar Beltrán (2/18/2018 9:20:00 PM)

    Me parece un poeta comprometido, que refleja claramente lo que le ha tocado vivir.

    1 person liked.
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Best Poem of Ghassan Zaqtan


The birds' departure from his heart
leaves the plains white
where the story is white
and sleep is white
and silence is the caller's icon.
A laugh of sand will sprout when the door is opened
from fear's angle, a hymn
for the grand winter, and the voices
of those who left long ago will jump like grasshoppers
when the door is opened.
Wait, wait a moment
for us to dry a moment
there's in our trace
a reckless lament
and a ceramic bird …
and watch for the necklaces on the ceiling
Why don't you turn the lights on
or be happy with sitting
and watch...

Read the full of Wolves

Will They Believe

Will the children forgive the generation
trampled by horses of war, exile and preparation for departure?

Will they think of us as we were:
ambushes in ravines
we'd shake our jealousy
and carve trees into the earth's shirt
to sit under
we the factional fighters

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