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<div class="header reader-header reader-show-element"> <font
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href="https://arablit.org/2020/03/13/on-mahmoud-darwish-day-13-poems-2/?fbclid=IwAR2j4WB3qmKNiCYUnIson5XCozVXC1C7q4jD8pG2mTQ9ExBZeIJsPsUIyHU">https://arablit.org/2020/03/13/on-mahmoud-darwish-day-13-poems-2/?fbclid=IwAR2j4WB3qmKNiCYUnIson5XCozVXC1C7q4jD8pG2mTQ9ExBZeIJsPsUIyHU</a></font>
<h1 class="reader-title">On Mahmoud Darwish Day, 13 Poems</h1>
March 13, 2020</div>
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<p><em>The towering, generation-defining Palestinian
poet Mahmoud Darwish (1941-2008) was born on this
day in al-Birwa. To commemorate his entrance into
our world, which happened on a March 13, we have
excerpts from 13 poems and </em><i>poemtexts.
Follow the links for more complete works:</i></p>
<p>Also, there is apparently no excerpt online from
the excellent <em><a href="https://amzn.to/2vBLXdK">Palestine
as Metaphor,</a> </em>a collection of interviews
with Darwish translated by Amira El-Zein and Carolyn
Forché; read it anyway.</p>
<p><strong>1) “<a
href="http://archipelagobk.wpengine.com/wp-content/uploads/JournalofanOrdinaryGrief_excerpt.pdf">The
Moon Did Not Fall Into the Well</a>,” from <em><a
title="More info about this book at
powells.com" href="https://amzn.to/2UtEaGo">
Journal of an Ordinary Grief</a>, </em>tr.
Ibrahim Muhawi</strong></p>
<p>Muhawi’s translations have a wonderful sense of the
rhythm of the original, and this particular text is
and open-hearted narrative with deeply etched
characters. It opens:</p>
<p>—What are you doing, father?</p>
<p>—I’m searching for my heart, which fell away that
night.</p>
<p>—Do you think you’ll find it here?</p>
<p>—Where else am I going to find it? I bend to the
ground and pick it up piece by piece just as the
women of the fellahin pick up olives in October, one
olive at a time.</p>
<p>—But you’re picking up pebbles!</p>
<p>—Doing that is a good exercise for memory and
perception. Who knows? Maybe these pebbles are
petrified pieces of my heart.</p>
<p><strong>2) “<a
href="https://pen.org/in-the-presence-of-absence/">Love,
like meaning,</a>” from <em><a title="More info
about this book at powells.com"
href="https://amzn.to/2VHtync"> In the
Presence of Absence</a>, </em>tr. Sinan
Antoon.</strong></p>
<p>Perhaps the greatest of Darwish’s works, this
version brought Antoon <a
href="https://arablit.org/2012/10/07/antoon-wins-2012-national-translation-award-for-in-the-presence-of-absence/">the
2012 National Translation Award</a>:</p>
<p>Love, like meaning, is out on the open road, but
like poetry, it is difficult. It requires talent,
endurance, and skillful formulation, because of its
many stations. It is not enough to love, for that is
one of nature’s magical acts, like rainfall and
thunder. It takes you out of yourself into the
other’s orbit and then you have to fend for
yourself. It is not enough to love, you have to know
how to love. Do you know how?</p>
<p><strong>3)</strong> <strong>“<a
href="http://www.vqronline.org/vqr-symposium/dice-player">The
Dice Player</a>,” from <em><a title="More info
about this book at powells.com"
href="https://amzn.to/2XI6mas"> If I Were
Another: Poems</a>, </em>tr. Fady Joudah</strong></p>
<p>The charming “The Dice Player” with a visual
adaptation:</p>
<p><span></span></p>
<p><strong>4) “<a
href="https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/52550/the-horse-fell-off-the-poem">The
Horse Fell off the Poem</a>,” from <em><a
href="https://amzn.to/2Hkqiua">The Butterfly’s
Burden</a>, </em>tr. Fady Joudah</strong></p>
<div>
<p>There is no margin in modern language left</p>
<p>to celebrate what we love,</p>
<p>because all that will be … was</p>
</div>
<p><strong>5) “<a
href="https://arablit.org/2016/03/13/on-mahmoud-darwishs-birthday-a-new-translation-of-the-second-olive-tree/">The
Second Olive Tree</a>,” tr. Marilyn Hacker</strong></p>
<p>And with horses, olive trees:</p>
<p>The olive tree does not weep and does not laugh.
The olive tree<br>
Is the hillside’s modest lady. Shadow<br>
Covers her one leg, and she will not take her leaves
off in front of the storm.<br>
Standing, she is seated, and seated, standing.</p>
<p><strong>6) “<a
href="https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article/nothing-but-iraq-march-29-2003">Nothing
But Iraq</a>,” tr. <b>Shareah Taleghani</b></strong></p>
<p>A cry to Badr Shakir al-Sayyab:</p>
<p>I remember as-Sayyab screaming into the Gulf in
vain:<br>
Iraq, Iraq. Nothing but Iraq.<br>
And nothing but an echo replies<br>
I remember as-Sayyab, in that Sumerian space<br>
A woman triumphed over the sterility of mist<br>
She bequeathed to us earth and exile . . .<br>
For poetry is born in Iraq,<br>
So be Iraqi to become a poet, my friend.</p>
<p><strong>6) <a
href="https://talinedv.com/2010/08/07/mahmoud-darwish-i-remember-al-sayyab/">A
second translation, titled “I Remember
al-Sayyab,”</a> by Taline Voskeritchian and
Christopher Millis</strong></p>
<p>I remember al-Sayyab, his futile cries across the
Gulf:</p>
<p>‘Iraq, Iraq, nothing but Iraq,’</p>
<p>And nothing answers but an echo.</p>
<p>I remember al-Sayyab under these same Sumerian
skies</p>
<p>Where a woman surmounted the void</p>
<p>To make us heirs to earth and exile.</p>
<p><strong>7) “<a
href="http://xpoetics.blogspot.com/2010/06/from-memory-for-forgetfulness-dhakira.html">And
where is my will?</a>” from <em><a
href="https://amzn.to/2tUBPso">Memory for
Forgetfulness</a>, </em>tr. Ibrahim Muhawi</strong></p>
<p>And where is my will?</p>
<p>It stopped over there, on the other side of the
collective voice. But now, I want nothing more than
the aroma of coffee. Now I feel shame. I feel shamed
by my fear, and by those defending the scent of the
distant homeland–that fragrance they’ve never
smelled because they weren’t born on her soil. She
bore them, but they were born away from her. Yet
they studied her constantly, without fatigue or
boredom; and from overpowering memory and constant
pursuit, they learned what it means to belong to
her.</p>
<p>“You’re aliens here,” they say to them <em>there</em>.</p>
<p>“You’re aliens here,” they say to them <em>here</em>.</p>
<p><strong>8) “<a
href="http://jadaliyya.com/Details/23789">Standing
Before the Ruins of Al-Birweh</a>,” tr. Sinan
Antoon, from <a href="https://amzn.to/2XMH7Ua"><em>I
Don’t Want This Poem to End</em></a></strong></p>
<p>Like birds, I tread lightly on the earth’s skin</p>
<p>so as not to wake the dead</p>
<p>I shut the door to my emotions to become my other</p>
<p>I don’t feel that I am a stone sighing</p>
<p>as it longs for a cloud</p>
<p><strong>9) “<a
href="https://www.wordswithoutborders.org/article/the-tragedy-of-narcissus-the-comedy-of-silver">The
Tragedy of Narcissus</a>,” from <em><a
href="https://amzn.to/2VKzk7U">If I Were
Another</a>, </em>tr. Fady Joudah:</strong></p>
<p><span></span></p>
<p><strong>10) “<a
href="https://www.poets.org/poetsorg/poem/noun-sentence">A
Noun Sentence</a>,” tr. Fady Joudah</strong></p>
<p>A noun sentence, no verb<br>
to it or in it: to the sea the scent of the bed<br>
after making love … a salty perfume<br>
or a sour one. A noun sentence: my wounded joy<br>
like the sunset at your strange windows.</p>
<p><strong>11) “<a
href="https://arablit.org/2016/03/13/on-mahmoud-darwishs-birthday-a-new-translation-of-if-i-were-a-hunter/">If
I Were a Hunter</a>,” tr. Shakir Mustafa</strong></p>
<p>If a hunter I were<br>
I’d give the gazelle<br>
a chance, and another,<br>
and a third, and a tenth,<br>
to doze a little. My share<br>
of the booty would be<br>
peace of mind under<br>
her dozing head.</p>
<p><strong>12) “<a
href="https://www.poetrynw.org/mahmoud-darwish-here-they-are-the-words/">Here
They Are Words</a>” tr. Fady Joudah</strong></p>
<p>Here they are the words fluttering in the mind<br>
There’s a land in the mind with a heavenly name the
words carry.</p>
<p><strong>13) “<a
href="http://www.barghouti.com/poets/darwish/bitaqa.asp">ID
Card</a>,” tr. Salman Masalha and Vivian Eden</strong></p>
<p>This would not likely be a poem Darwish would
choose among only 13 of his works. But it is one
that, although written in his early days, in 1964,
continues to have great political resonance:</p>
<p>Write it down! I’m an Arab<br>
My card number is 50000<br>
My children number eight<br>
And after this summer, a ninth on his way.<br>
Does this make you rage?<br>
I am an Arab.</p>
<p>Also, as a bonus: <a
href="https://www.newyorker.com/magazine/2008/08/25/here-the-birds-journey-ends">Here
the Birds’ Journey Ends</a>, tr. Joudah</p>
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