Mahmoud Darwish

(13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008 / Palestinian)

Mahmoud Darwish Poems

1. Other Berbers Will Come 4/16/2014
2. Neighing At The Slope 4/15/2014
3. I Remember Elsayyab… 4/15/2014
4. Cadence Chooses Me 4/15/2014
5. Psalm Four 4/15/2014
6. Mohammed Al Durra 4/15/2014
7. In Egypt, One Hour Isn'T Like Any Other 4/15/2014
8. Brand Of Slaves 9/7/2013
9. The Horse Fell Off The Poem 9/3/2013
10. I Have A Seat In The Abandoned Theater 9/3/2013
11. Pride And Fury 4/16/2014
12. Intensive Care Unit 4/16/2014
13. On A Day Like This 4/14/2014
14. And They Don'T Ask… 4/15/2014
15. No Flag Flutters In The Wind 4/14/2014
16. A Noun Sentence 4/14/2014
17. Now, As You Awaken… 4/15/2014
18. They Would Love To See Me Dead 4/16/2014
19. Psalm Two 4/15/2014
20. The Promise Of Liberty 4/16/2014
21. Psalm One 4/15/2014
22. Mural 9/3/2013
23. The Cypress Broke 9/3/2013
24. Nostalgia To The Light 10/28/2013
25. I Didn'T Apologize To The Well… 4/15/2014
26. On A Canaaite Rock At The Dead Sea 4/16/2014
27. Another Day Will Come 4/15/2014
28. Earth Presses Against Us 4/15/2014
29. Remainder Of A Life 4/16/2014
30. A Song And The Sultan 4/15/2014
31. Promises Of The Storm 4/15/2014
32. The Owl's Night 4/15/2014
33. Sonnet V 4/14/2014
34. Defiance 4/15/2014
35. Ahmad Al-Za'Tar 9/5/2013
36. The Pigeons Fly 4/15/2014
37. I Will Slog Over This Road 4/15/2014
38. The Exiles Don'T Look Back… 4/15/2014
39. It Is Night And She Is Lonely… 4/15/2014
40. On Man 9/5/2013

Comments about Mahmoud Darwish

  • yacta yacta (7/1/2017 2:36:00 AM)

    A part of me is with me,

    A part of me is with you,

    Each part is missing the other,

    So, would you come?


    -Mahmoud Darwish, I've choosen for you

    7 person liked.
    1 person did not like.
  • Handsum L (2/20/2015 1:33:00 AM)

    We have on this earth what makes life worth living:
    April's hesitation,
    the aroma of bread at dawn,
    a woman's point of view about men,
    the works of Aeschylus,
    the beginning of love,
    grass on a stone,
    mothers living on a flute's sigh
    and
    the invaders' fears of memories.

    We have on this earth what makes life worth living:
    the final days of September,
    a woman
    keeping her apricots ripe after forty,
    the hour of sunlight in prison,
    a cloud reflecting a swarm of creatures,
    the peoples' applause for those who face death with a smile,
    a tyrant's fear of songs.

    We have on this earth what makes life worth living:
    on this earth,
    the Lady of Earth,
    mother of all beginnings and ends.
    She was called Palestine.
    Her name later became
    Palestine.
    My Lady,
    because you are my Lady,
    I deserve life.

    على هذه الأرض



    علَى هَذِهِ الأَرْض مَا يَسْتَحِقُّ الحَياةْ: تَرَدُّدُ إبريلَ, رَائِحَةُ الخُبْزِ فِي
    الفجْرِ، آراءُ امْرأَةٍ فِي الرِّجالِ، كِتَابَاتُ أَسْخِيْلِيوس، أوَّلُ الحُبِّ، عشبٌ
    عَلَى حجرٍ، أُمَّهاتٌ تَقِفْنَ عَلَى خَيْطِ نايٍ, وخوفُ الغُزَاةِ مِنَ الذِّكْرياتْ.


    عَلَى هَذِهِ الأرْض ما يَسْتَحِقُّ الحَيَاةْ: نِهَايَةُ أَيلُولَ، سَيِّدَةٌ تترُكُ
    الأَرْبَعِينَ بِكَامِلِ مشْمِشِهَا, ساعَةُ الشَّمْسِ فِي السَّجْنِ، غَيْمٌ يُقَلِّدُ سِرْباً مِنَ
    الكَائِنَاتِ، هُتَافَاتُ شَعْبٍ لِمَنْ يَصْعَدُونَ إلى حَتْفِهِمْ بَاسِمينَ, وَخَوْفُ
    الطُّغَاةِ مِنَ الأُغْنِيَاتْ.


    عَلَى هَذِهِ الأرْضِ مَا يَسْتَحِقُّ الحَيَاةْ: عَلَى هَذِهِ الأرضِ سَيَّدَةُ
    الأُرْضِ، أُمُّ البِدَايَاتِ أُمَّ النِّهَايَاتِ. كَانَتْ تُسَمَّى فِلِسْطِين. صَارَتْ تُسَمَّى
    فلسْطِين. سَيِّدَتي: أَستحِقُّ، لأنَّكِ سيِّدَتِي، أَسْتَحِقُّ الحَيَاةْ.

  • Gurpreet Kaur (3/23/2014 9:07:00 AM)

    I find Darwish's poetry the most compelling.His poems bespeak immeasurable longing for home and peace.I wonder how moving it would be to read him in original hebrew and how moving it would be for an Arab like him.

  • David H. Partington (3/19/2014 9:06:00 PM)

    I am delighted, and deeply moved, by the inclusion of Mahmud Darwish's poem. His is an outstanding example of the work of contemporary Arabs, and it is unfortunate that we in the US have so little contact with that rich outpouring of emotion. What a tragedy he and his people face and do endure! I hope that subsequent Arab poets will have happier themes for their lyrical outpourings.

  • Rich Persoff (3/19/2014 8:13:00 PM)

    A very sad person who bleeds with his poetry.

  • Halcyon Poemcrafter (12/13/2013 3:19:00 PM)

    My favourite poet writing in Arabic. So sad he left quite early but as they say poets live on forever. You won't be forgotten Mahmoud Darwish contrary to what you're saying in this incredibly beautiful poem:

    Forgotten As If You Never Were

    Forgotten, as if you never were.
    Like a bird’s violent death
    like an abandoned church you’ll be forgotten,
    like a passing love
    and a rose in the night... forgotten

    I am for the road... There are those whose footsteps preceded mine
    those whose vision dictated mine. There are those
    who scattered speech on their accord to enter the story
    or to illuminate to others who will follow them
    a lyrical trace... and a speculation

    Forgotten, as if you never were
    a person, or a text... forgotten

    I walk guided by insight, I might
    give the story a biographical narrative. Vocabulary
    governs me and I govern it. I am its shape
    and it is the free transfiguration. But what I’d say has already been said.
    A passing tomorrow precedes me. I am the king of echo.
    My only throne is the margin. And the road
    is the way. Perhaps the forefathers forgot to describe
    something, I might nudge in it a memory and a sense

    Forgotten, as if you never were
    news, or a trace... forgotten

    I am for the road... There are those whose footsteps
    walk upon mine, those who will follow me to my vision.
    Those who will recite eulogies to the gardens of exile,
    in front of the house, free of worshipping yesterday,
    free of my metonymy and my language, and only then
    will I testify that I’m alive
    and free
    when I’m forgotten!

  • Jennifer Chalk (3/20/2012 7:17:00 AM)

    Inspirational poetry, fabulous. Can you please publish Bitaqat Huwiyya here. I only have access to the second stanza online:
    Write down
    I am an Arab
    And I work with comrades in a stone quarry
    And my children are eight in number.
    For them I hack out
    a loaf of bread
    clothing
    a school exercise-book
    from the rocks
    rather than begging for alms
    at your door
    rather than making myself small
    at your doorsteps.
    Does this bother you?

    Thanks!

  • Mohammed Nofal (9/26/2006 10:55:00 AM)

    i wuld like to be with yuo in this plac, plz suport me and i will suport yuo

Best Poem of Mahmoud Darwish

I Come From There

I come from there and I have memories
Born as mortals are, I have a mother
And a house with many windows,
I have brothers, friends,
And a prison cell with a cold window.
Mine is the wave, snatched by sea-gulls,
I have my own view,
And an extra blade of grass.
Mine is the moon at the far edge of the words,
And the bounty of birds,
And the immortal olive tree.
I walked this land before the swords
Turned its living body into a laden table.
I come from there. I render the sky unto her mother
When the sky weeps for her mother.
And I weep ...

Read the full of I Come From There

The Dice Player

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,
Sometimes I win and sometimes I lose

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