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on twitter, a viral thread started where people around the world shared their translations of “If I must die”, the last work of Dr Refaat Alareer also known as "the voice of Gaza". A beloved poet, teacher and life-long activist for Palestine, he was recently assassinated along with members of his extended family by a targeted Israeli air strike. His loss leaves a hole in the heart of palestinians all over the world.
Below the cut, I’ll be posting the translations of his poem, with links to the original posts. Unfortunately, tumblr limits posts to a maximum of 30 images. I will update when I can.
Arabic (Refaat’s mother tongue)
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2. Spanish
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3. Irish
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4. Dutch
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5. Greek
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6. German
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7. Vietnamese
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8. Tagalog
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9. Serbian
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10. Japanese
and the traditional japanese calligraphy version
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11. Nepali
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12. Tamil
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13. Bosnian
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14. Indonesian
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15. Romanian
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16. Italian
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17. Albanian
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18. Urdu
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19. Turkish
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20. Polish
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21. Norwegian
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22. Galician
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23. Swedish
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24. Jawi
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25. Bengali
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26. Russian
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The more I think about it the more unhinged it is that Peeta's arms were better than sleeping pills for Katniss
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I'm listening to a lot of Maintenance Phase (bc I love it) and this comes up sometimes, so I'll just be sat here thinking about how common it is for little kids to grow up watching their moms and other women in their life jump from diet to diet. Just as ambient background noise in your childhood, the adults around you obsess over calories aloud, express guilt over eating enjoyable food, frame exercise as a form of punishment for eating, and so on.
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That other guy would fuck it up so that you made macaroons instead of macrons
They're approaching menacingly with a bag of shreaded coconut
now see that would be quite interesting, and definitely be making the most out of the use of time travel
also if someone goes that far, then they absolutely deserve the chance to ruin my macarons lol
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Something about Dani and Jamie, Bill and Frank, love stories cultivated in the heart of horror. Something about finding queer love, gay love, human and fallible and worth cupping hands around and protecting even in the darkest of times. Something about stumbling into your person when you least expect them, when your mind is fixed firmly on pain and survival, and letting their light open you up. Something about choosing to wake up every day and cherish this person, even when it’s hard, even when they’re being broken down right before your eyes. Something about saying “I am marrying you, not in the eyes of others, but in our hearts where it matters—legality be damned”.
Something about gay love being worth all the strawberries, all the moonflowers, all the persistence and the endings chosen on your own terms. Something about that hits me where it counts.
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