#palestinian poet

[tendermimi]

Samih al-Qasim, Shalom

[random45flowerperson]

[fawnaura]

My limbs will grow along a sycamore tree. My heart will pour its earthly water upon one of the planets. What might I be in death after my death?

Mahmoud Darwish, “Mural” from Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: tr. & edited by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché

[huariqueje]

View this post on Instagram

A post shared by IFP (@ifp.world)

[trailofleaves]

Mosab Abu Toha

▪︎ Palestinian poet

[mailmiocuoredipietratremaancora]

These days I wonder what Darwish would have said if he was alive, I’m sure we would need his words. Yet, we must not forget that he’s here, that his words are still here, his poetry, his boundless humanity and beauty.

In times like these we must not forget the poets.

« In the dark times | Will there also be singing? | Yes, there will also be singing. | About the dark times. »

Bertolt Brecht

« La beauté, sans doute, ne fait pas les révolutions. Mais un jour vient où les révolutions ont besoin d'elle. »

Albert Camus

[iristhemuse]

Oh, rascal children of Gaza...

[solvaaya]

Oklahoma by Hala Alyan. Text ID under cut.

[Text ID: For a place I hate, I invoke you often. Stockholm’s: I am eight years old and the telephone poles are down, the power plant at the edge of town spitting electricity. Before the pickup trucks, the strip malls, dirt beaten by Cherokee feet. Osiyo, tsilugi. Rope swung from mule to tent to man, tornadoes came, the wind rearranged the face of the land like a chessboard. This was before the gold rush, the greed of engines, before white men pressing against brown women, nailing crosses by the river, before the slow songs of cotton plantations, the hymns toward God, the murdered dangling like earrings. Under a redwood, two men signed away the land and in history class I don’t understand why a boy whispers sand monkey. The Mexican girls let me sit with them as long as I braid their hair, my fingers dipping into that wet black silk. I try to imitate them at home — mírame, mama — but my mother yells at me, says they didn’t come here so I could speak some beggar language. Heaven is a long weekend. Heaven is a tornado siren canceling school. Heaven is pressed in a pleather booth at the Olive Garden, sipping Pepsi between my gapped teeth, listening to my father mispronounce his meal.]

[artnachronisme]

Mahmoud Darwich, palestinian poet, 1941-2008.

[jesdays]

In order for me

to write poetry

that isn't political

I must listen to

the birds

And in order to hear the

birds

the warplanes must

be silent.

- Marwan Makhoul

[tendermimi]

— Mahmoud Darwish, The Hoopoe

[random45flowerperson]

[fawnaura]

Mahmoud Darwish, “Mural” from Unfortunately, It Was Paradise: tr. & edited by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché

[feral-ballad]

[Text ID: “It shall pass, I keep hoping. It shall pass, I keep saying. Sometimes I mean it. Sometimes I don’t. And as Gaza keeps gasping for life, we struggle for it to pass, we have no choice but to fight back and to tell her stories. For Palestine.”]

[hussyknee]

Her final tweet on October 8 reads:

“Gaza’s night is dark apart from the glow of rockets, quiet apart from the sound of the bombs, terrifying apart from the comfort of prayer, black apart from the light of the martyrs. Good night, Gaza.”

[mailmiocuoredipietratremaancora]

29/10/2023

Una citazione da Una trilogia palestinese al giorno

Mettiamo subito in chiaro che non difendo l'antica felicità né canto l'infelicità passata. Non hanno patria gli operai? Anche chi ne viene privato ne ha una. Forse, fortunatamente per noi, la nostra patria è diritto e bellezza. Non è diventata così corrosivamente bella grazie alle sottrazioni che ce l'hanno tolta? È sogno nella sua realtà e realtà nel suo sogno. Non abbiamo affatto nostalgia di una landa desolata, abbiamo nostalgia di un paradiso. Abbiamo nostalgia di esercitare la nostra umanità in un posto che sia nostro.

Mahmud Darwish