Psalm 11

Psalm 11

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. Nothing remains for me But to be a vagrant in your shadow that is my shadow Nothing remains for me But to inhabit your voice that is my voice. I rolled down off the cross spread out like a cloudless sky In an endless horizon, To the smallest mountain reached by vision And I did not come upon my wound . . . and my freedom. Because I do not know your whereabouts I do not find my pace And because my back is not supported against you with nails I have become exceedingly bowed Like your sky that keeps company with windows of aeroplanes. Give me back the features of my name That I may make appeal to the fibres of trees. Give me back the letters of my face That I may make an arbiter of the coming storms. Give me back the reasons for my joy That I may make an arbiter of withdrawal that has no reason. Because my voice is dry as a flagpole, My hand empty as the national anthem And because my shadow is vast as a festival And the lineaments of my face go for a ride in an ambulance Because I am like that, Being a citizen in an unborn kingdom.  Zajel / An-Najah National University