Quotes from Mahmoud Darwish

Come with me tonight so that we might make tonight a shared past, says the one afflicted with longing. I will come with you to make a shared tomorrow, says the one afflicted with love. She does not love the past and wants to forget the war that has ended. He fears tomorrow, because the war has not ended and he does not want to grow older.

In a world that has no heaven the earth becomes an abyss. And the poem is one of its consolation prizes. One of the qualities of the winds, north or south

I'll search in mythology and archeology and in every -ology to my old name. one of the goddesses of Canaan will side with me, then swear with a flash of lightning. This is my orphan son

he says I am from there, I am from here, but I am neither there nor here. I have two names which meet and part… I have two languages, but I have long forgotten— which is the language of my dreams

In Damascus: the traveler sings to himself: I return from Syria neither alive nor dead but as clouds that ease the butterfly's burden from my fugitive soul

Dort immer noch Abstand wahren zu wollen, wo es nicht mehr nötig wäre, gehört zu den Folgeerscheinungen von Sehnsucht. ??????? ????? ?????? ?? ?????...????? ?? ??? ?????? ?? ??????

After you nothing goes and nothing returns.

All roads lead to you, even those I took to forget you.

The long road has drained me of all feelings and expectations. I don't feel a thing or expect anything now.

I used to love winter, and I would listen to it, drop by drop. Rain, rain like an appeal to a lover, Pour down my body! Winter was not lament pointing to the end of life. It was the beginning. It was hope. So what shall I do, as life falls like hair? What will I do this winter?

Words are a homeland.

One day I'll become what I want One day I will become a thought" Excerpt From Mural

Later, we'll look up what was recorded in our history about yours in faraway lands. Then we'll ask ourselves, "Was Andalusia here or there? On earth, or only in poems?

Graveyards have the dignity of air, the authority of dust.

May life suddenly open on the wing of a butterfly fluttering over a rhyme for those who do not care about meaning.

Where is my second road to the staircase of expanse? Where is futility? Where is the road to the road? And where are we, the marching on the footpath of the present tense, where are we? Our talk a predicate and a subject before the sea, and the elusive foam of speech the dots on the letters, wishing for the present tense a foothold on the pavement …

I have passed by many eyes but only got lost in yours.

I embrace you, until I return to my void, as an eternal visitor. No life and no death in what I sense as a bird passing beyond nature. when I embrace you… from "Maybe, Because Winter Is Late

This peace will leave us as a cluster of dust...

They want time to move fast so they can paint their nails a provocative red and wear high heels that crack walnuts and make people jump. He wants time to slow down so he can prolong the enjoyment of walking among them, of being next to this self-contained beauty.

The wars will end and the leaders will shake hands, and that old woman will remain waiting for her martyred son, and that girl will wait for her beloved husband, and the children will wait for their heroic father, I do not know who sold the homeland but I know who paid the price.

You ask: What is the meaning of "homeland"? They will say: The house, the mulberry tree, the chicken coop, the beehive, the smell of bread, and the first sky. You ask: Can a word of eight letters be big enough for all of these, yet too small for us?

When the image is identical to reality, the imagination is compelled to be neutral. Therefore let the image of the object lie to the object so we can see what lies beyond the object, and in the light of that vision see what saves us from nothingness.

I see what I want of people: their desire to long for anything, their lateness in getting to work, and their hurry to return to their folk … and their need to say: Good Morning …