A poet from Palestine

While largely unknown in German-speaking countries, the poems of Palestinian poet Mahmud Darwish (1941–2008) have been translated into many languages and are highly acclaimed in the Arab world. His poetry is perceived as an expression of Palestinian identity, as a bond between the people. It is based on the ethos of preserving dignity as a fellow human being and making one’s own language and culture resonate. In the poem reproduced below, Darwish reaches out across the painful history of Palestine towards understanding and human connection.
  Darwish’s life encompassed a large part of the history of his country after the founding of the Israeli state. As a child, he experienced the expulsion (“Nakba” 1948), and his family returned “illegally” in 1949. At school, he found access to the classics of world literature. He initially worked as a cultural editor for various newspapers. His early poems (“Olive Tree Leaves”) made him renown in the Arab world. In 1970, the young poet left Israel after being imprisoned several times. Darwish lived in exile for many years. He was a member of the Palestinian National Council from 1987-1993. He resigned from the PLO because of the Oslo Accords (occupation issue). From 1996 onwards, he lived in Amman (Jordan) and Ramallah (Palestine).
  His poetry finds a figurative language. It takes up experienced oppression and exile, and creates counter-images of an equal coexistence. “A great metaphorical model unites these poems – the relationship to the ‘other’. In them, Darwish conjures up like no other the vision of a great just peace that promotes dialogue between two voices and two points of view, without one imposing itself violently on the other.” (Quote from translator Adel Karasholi)
  Mahmud Darwish gave readings to packed halls, often accompanied by music. Many of his poems were also set to music. It is an exciting experience, even for listeners unfamiliar with Arabic, to sense the musicality of this language (various examples can be found on YouTube). Perhaps comparable to the dissemination of Mikis Theodorakis’ poems and songs in Greece, their popularity is not limited to intellectual circles, but is alive in the whole population.

Source: State of Siege, Beirut 2002

To a third guard [in prison]

I’ll teach you waiting
On a stone bench, perhaps
We would exchange our names.
You might see an urgent simile between us:
You have a mother
And I have a mother
And we have one rain
And we have one moon
And a brief absence from the dining table.

From: Mahmud Darwish.
Where you were and where you are.

Translated in: Khadija El Alaoui, “Chanting Tahreer and Compassion: People as Poetry”, In: Tensions Journal by York University (Toronto, Canada), Issue 5, 2011.