Thursday, July 30, 2009
They did not recognize me in the shadows
That suck away my color in the Passport
And to them my wound was an exhibit
For a tourist Who love to collect photographs
They not recognize me
The palm or my hand without the sun
Because the trees recognize me
Don't leave me pale like the moon!
All the birds hat followed my palm
To the door of the distant airport
All the wheatfields
All the prison
All the white tombstones
All the barbed bounderies
All the wawing handkerchiefs
All the eyes were with me,
Hut they dropped them from my passport
Striped of my name and identity?
On soil I nourished with my own hand?
Today job cried out
Filling the sky:
Dont't make an example of me again!
Oh, gentlement, Prophet,
Dont't ask the trees for their names
Don't ask the villeys who thier mother is
From my forehead burst the sward of light
And from my hand springs the water or the river
All the hearts of the people are my identity
So take away my passport
By Mahmoud Darwish