Between the lines

Between the lines

شعر محمود درويش

Those who walk between the vague words,
Take your names and leave.
Take your hours from our time and leave.
Take what you want from the blueness of sea and the sand of memories,
Take what you want from our pictures,
So you know that you don’t know
How a stone from our land can hold the weight of the skies.

Those who walk between the vague words,
You have your sword – we have our blood.
You have your fire and steel – we have our flesh.
You have yet another tank – we have nothing but stones.
You have tear gas– we only have the rain.
Above you and us only air and sky,
So take your share of our blood and leave.
Go to a disco party.
Whereas we should guard the roses on the graves of our fallen.
Whereas we should live how we see fit.

Those who walk between the  vague words,
Take off like road dust and fly wherever you want
But not like insects among us.
For we have our land to plow
Where we grow wheat and water it with our sweat.
You won’t be satisfied with the range of our goods:
The stone and the shame.
Take the past to antiques market if you will
And return the skeleton of hoopoe
On a clay platter as well.
We have that which doesn’t please you – our future in the land that we work in.

Those who walk between the  vague words,
Dump your illusions into a cesspool
And leave.
Return the hand of time to the law of the golden calf
Or to the pulses of revolver’s symphony.
You won’t be satisfied with what we have,
So just leave.

We have something you don’t:
Bleeding homeland of  wounded people,
Homeland fit for oblivion or memory.

Those who walk between the  vague words,
It’s time for you to leave.
Stand wherever you want, just not beside us.
It’s time for you to leave.
Die wherever you want to, just don’t die beside us,
For we have our land to plow
We have our past echoing of pristine life.
We have the present, the present and the future.
Our life and our afterlife reside here.

So get out of our land,
Our sea, our wheat, our salt, our wounds,
Out of everything,
Get out of the words of memory,
O, those who walk between the vague words!

translated by ukranistani

 

 

 

 

 

 
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