Homeland

Homeland

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. Suspend me on the tresses of a date palm. Hand me-I shall not betray the palm. This land is mine and long ago, In good mood and in bad, I’d milk the camels. My homeland is no bundle of legends. It is not a memory, not a field of crescent moons. My homeland is not some story or anthem, Not light on the boughs of some jasmine bush. My homeland is the anger of the exile at being made to grieve, A child wanting festivities and a kiss. And winds confined within a prison cell, An old man mourning his sons, his field. This land is the skin on my bones, And my heart Flies above its grasses like a bee. Suspend me on the tresses of date palm. Hand me-I shall not betray the palm. Zajel / An-Najah National University