Mahmoud Darwish Poems

With dynamite she raps her waist…
She explodes…
...

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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I will slog over this endless road to its end.
Until my heart stops, I will slog over this endless, endless road
...

A passenger on the bus says…
nothing impresses me.
...

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…
...

I long for my mother's bread
My mother's coffee
Her touch
Childhood memories grow up in me
Day after day
...

This land gives us
all that makes life worth living:
April's blushing advances,
the aroma of bread at dawn,
a woman's haranguing of men,
the poetry of Aeschylus,
...

a country you carry in your pocket
airport to airport, a country
...

Don't believe our outlines, forget them
and begin from your own words.
As if you are the first to write poetry
or the last poet.
...

-Are you tired of walking
my son, are you getting tired?
...