عاشق من فلسطين
Mahmud Darwish / محمود درويش| VERSION #2 | |
| A LOVER FROM PALESTINE Your eyes are a thorn in my heart Inflicting pain, yet I cherish that thorn And shield it from the wind. I sheathe it in my flesh, I sheathe it, protecting it from night and agony, And its wound lights the lanterns, Its tomorrow makes my present Dearer to me than my soul. And soon I forget, as eye meets eye, That once, behind the doors, there were two of us ! Your words were a song And I tried to sing, too, But agony encircled the lips of spring. And like the swallow, your words took wing, The door of our home and the autumnal threshold migrated, To follow you wherever led by longing Our mirrors were shattered, And sorrow was multiplied a thousand fold. And we gathered the splinters of sound, Mastering only the elegy of our homeland! Together were will plant it in the heart of a lyre, And on the rooftops of our tragedy we’ll play it To mutilated moons and to stones. But I have forgotten, you of the unknown voice: Was it your departure that rushed the lyre or was it my silence? Yesterday I saw you in the port, A long voyager without provisions, Like an orphan I ran to you, Asking the wisdom of our forefathers: How can the ever-verdant orange grove be dragged To prison, to exile, to a port, And despite all her travels, Despite the scent of salt and longing, Remain evergreen? I write in my diary: I love oranges and hate the port And I write further: On the dock I stood, and saw the world through Witter’s eyes Only the orange peel is ours, and behind me lay the desert. In the briar-covered mountains I saw you, A shepherdess without sheep, Pursued among the ruins. You were my garden, and I a stranger, Knocking at the door, my heart, For upon my heart stand firm The door and windows, the cement and stones. I have seen you in casks of water, in granaries, Broken, I have seen you a maid in night clubs, I have seen you in the gleam of tears and in wounds. You are the other lung in my chest; You are the sound on my lips; You are water; you are fire. I saw you at the mouth of the cave, at the cavern, Hanging your orphans’ rags on the wash line. In the stoves, in the streets I have seen you. In the barns and in the sun’s blood. In the songs of the orphaned and the wretched I have seen you. I have seen you in the salt of the sea and in the sand. Yours was the beauty of the earth, of children and of Arabian jasmine. And I have vowed To fashion from my eyelashes a kerchief, And upon it to embroider verses for your eyes, And a name, when watered by a heart that dissolves in chanting, Will make the sylvan arbours grow. I shall write a phrase more precious than honey and kisses: ‘Palestinian she was and still is’. On a night of storms, I opened the door and the window To see the hardened moon of our nights. I said to the night: Run out, Beyond the darkness and the wall; I have a promise to keep with words and light. You are my virgin garden As long as our songs Are swords when we draw them. And you are as faithful as grain So long as our songs Keep alive the fertile soil when we plant them. You are like a palm tree in the mind: Neither storm nor woodsman’s ax can fell it. Its braids uncut By the beasts of desert and forest. But I am the exiled one behind wall and door, Shelter me in the warmth of your gaze. Take me, wherever you are, Take me, however you are. To be restored to the warmth of face and body, To the light of heart and eye, To the salt of bread and song, To the taste of earth and homeland. Shelter me in the warmth of your gaze, Take me, a panel of almond wood, in the cottage of sorrows, Take me, a verse from the book of my tragedy, Take me, a plaything or a stone from the house, So that our next generation may recall The path of return to our home. Her eyes and the tattoo on her hands are Palestinian, Her name, Palestinian, Her dreams, and sorrow, Palestinian, Her Kerchief, her feet and body, Palestinian, Her words and her silence, Palestinian, Her voice, Palestinian, Her birth and her death, Palestinian, I have carried you in my old notebooks As the fire of my verses, The sustenance for my journeys. In your name, my voice rang in the valleys: I have seen Byzantium’s horses Even though the battle be different. Beware, oh beware The lightning struck by my song in the granite. I am the flower of youth and the knight of knights! I am the smasher of idols. I plant the Levantine borders With poems that set eagles free. And in your name I have shouted at the enemy: Worms, feed on my flesh if ever I slumber, For the eggs of ants cannot hatch eagles, And the shell of the adder’s egg Holds but a snake! I have seen Byzantium’s horses, And before it all, I know That I am the flower of youth and the knight of knights! | A LOVER FROM PALESTINE A thorn in my heart Painful yet adorable I shield it from the wind And stab it deep through the night Through pain Its wound illuminates the darkness Transforms my present into future Dearer than my soul And I shall forget as our eyes meet That once we were together behind the gate Your words were my song I tried singing But winter replaced the spring Your words, like the sparrow, flew away Like the sparrow who left our doors After you Our mirrors broke-sorrows engulfed us We picked the splinters of sound And only learned to lament the Fatherland We shall plant it together Over the breast of a guitar Play it over the roofs of our tragedy To disfigured moons and rocks But I have forgotten I have forgotten your voice Was it my silence Was it my silence or Your departure That rusted my guitar? I saw you last at the port A lonely traveler without luggage I ran to you like an orphan, a child Seeking answers in ancestral wisdom: How could the green orchard be imprisoned Exiled, banished to a port And still remain green I entered in my diary I love oranges And hate the port Where I stood As torrents of rain poured down We only had the orange peels And behind us stretched the endless desert I saw you on thorny hills A sheepless shepherd-chased I saw you on the ruins and once You were a green orchard I stood a stranger Knocking at your door The doors, the windows, the cemented stone Vibrated I saw your face in the wells In the granaries-torn I saw you a waitress in the night cafes I saw through the tears and wounds And you are the words on my lips You are the fire And the water I saw you at the mouth of a cave Hanging your orphan's rags I saw you in the stalls, in the streets Warming yourself by the fire I saw you in the lamentations of misery In blood dripping from the sun In the salt of the sea and the sand And yet You were as beautiful as the earth As children I swear From my eyelashes I shall weave you A kerchief with words sweeter than honey And kisses I shall write: And kisses you were And so you will remain I opened my doors to the night storm On a bronzy moon I wandered the back streets in the darkness And I have a date with words With the dawn of light You are my virgin garden as Faithful as the wheat With our songs we shall pierce the air And plant fertility in the dormant earth And you like the braided palm tree Unbending to the storm Heedless of the hewer's blows Beyond the claw and the fangs of the jungle beasts Come to me wherever you are Whatever you have become And return color to my cheeks And meaning to my being Return and take me into your eyes Take an olive branch Take a verse of my tragedy A toy Take a stone from our house So that our descendants Will remember their way home Palestinian are your eyes Palestinian is your name Palestinian your thoughts-dreams Palestinian your mantilla, your body Your feet Palestinian the words-the silence Palestinian the voice Palestinian in life Palestinian in death I carried you in my diaries Inspiration for the fire of my words The food for my thoughts And in your name I shout in the valleys: Invaders' horses!-I met them Though the times have changed Beware-beware hooves and stones I destroyed the big idols The thunderbolt has struck the flint I shall fill the expanses of Sham With my songs In your name I have shouted to the enemy: If I sleep Let maggots eat my flesh Ants cannot breed eagles And the snake hatches only snakes Long ago I turned away the invaders' horses Deep in my soul! I know I will turn them away again. |
