Mahmoud Darwish

(13 March 1941 – 9 August 2008 / Palestinian)

Mahmoud Darwish Poems

41. Your Night Is Of Lilac 9/3/2013
42. Defiance 4/15/2014
43. The Horse Fell Off The Poem 9/3/2013
44. It Is Night And She Is Lonely… 4/15/2014
45. I Am Yusuf Oh Father 9/3/2013
46. If You Find Yourself Alone 4/14/2014
47. The Promise Of Liberty 4/16/2014
48. A Soldier Dreams Of White Lilies 9/5/2013
49. Poem Of The Land 4/15/2014
50. They Would Love To See Me Dead 4/16/2014
51. Don'T Apologize For What You'Ve Done 9/4/2013
52. Who Am I, Without Exile? 9/3/2013
53. Speech Of The Red Indian 9/5/2013
54. To My End And To Its End... 4/15/2014
55. Intensive Care Unit 4/16/2014
56. Strangers' Walk 4/15/2014
57. The Owl's Night 4/15/2014
58. Sonnet V 4/14/2014
59. I Belong There 4/14/2014
60. On Man 9/5/2013
61. Here The Birds' Journey Ends 4/16/2014
62. The Pigeons Fly 4/15/2014
63. Think Of Others 9/3/2013
64. The Violins 9/5/2013
65. A Traveller 9/3/2013
66. We Have The Right To Love Autumn 4/16/2014
67. Those Who Pass Between Fleeting Words 9/3/2013
68. Palestine 9/3/2013
69. We Journey Towards A Home 4/16/2014
70. Rita And The Rifle 9/3/2013
71. To A Young Poet 9/3/2013
72. The Exiles Don'T Look Back… 4/15/2014
73. As He Walks Away 4/16/2014
74. To My Mother 9/3/2013
75. To Our Land 9/3/2013
76. Lesson From The Kama-Sutra (Wait For Her) 4/15/2014
77. And We Have Countries … 4/15/2014
78. Nothing Impresses Me 4/16/2014
79. The Earth Is Closing On Us 4/15/2014
80. The Prison Cell 9/3/2013

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

Mural

This is your name -
a woman said,
and vanished through the winding corridor
There I see heaven within reach.
The wing of a white dove carries me
towards another childhood. And I never dreamt
that I was dreaming. Everything is real.
I knew I was casting myself aside . . .
and flew. I shall become what I will

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