Mahmoud Darwish Poems

And we have countries without borders, like our idea
of the unknown, narrow and wide - countries whose maps
...

I will slog over this endless road to its end.
Until my heart stops, I will slog over this endless, endless road
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Rome is skin to us as if imposed fate
Its name is branded on our backs yet
As prisoners' numbers and scourges that's Rome
Rome dismantles our brands under her want
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A passenger on the bus says…
nothing impresses me.
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It is possible…
It is possible at least sometimes…
It is possible especially now
To ride a horse
Inside a prison cell
And run away…
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So, we are who we are, as the Mississippi flows,
and what remains from yesterday is still ours-
but the color of the sky has changed,
the sea to the East has changed.
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a country you carry in your pocket
airport to airport, a country
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I long for my mother's bread
My mother's coffee
Her touch
Childhood memories grow up in me
Day after day
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I didn't apologize to the well when I passed the well,
I borrowed from the ancient pine tree a cloud
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I know the house from the bunch of sage. The first of the
windows leans toward the butterflies...blue...
...