Psalm 2 *

Psalm 2 *

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. Nowadays I find myself dry As a tree growing out of books, And the wind is a passing matter. To fight or not to fight? That is not the question. The important thing is for my throat to be strong. To work or not to work? That is not the question. The important thing is for me to rest eight days a week According to Palestinian Mean Time. O homeland repeated in songs and massacres, Show me the way to the source of death: Is it the dagger or the lie? In order to remember I had a roof that's lost I should sit out in the open. In order not to forget my country's pure air I should breathe in consumption. In order to remember the gazelle swimming in whiteness I must be interned with memories. In order not to forget my mountains are high I should comb the storm from my brow. In order to retain ownership over my distant sky I must not own even my very skin. O homeland repeated in massacres and songs, Why do I smuggle you from airport to airport Like opium, White ink And a transmitter? I want to draw your form, You who are scattered through files and surprises. I want to draw your form, You who are strewn over shrapnel and birds' wings. I want to draw your form, But the sky snatches at my hand. I want to draw your form, You who are beleaguered between wind and dagger. I want to draw your form, In order to find my form in you, And so I am accused of being abstract, of forging documents and  photos, You who are beleaguered between dagger and the wind. O homeland repeated in songs and massacres, How are you changed into a dream and steal wonderment So that you leave me like a stone? Perhaps you are more beautiful in the process of becoming a dream, Perhaps you are more beautiful. In the history of the Arabs there remains No name for me to borrow With which to slip through your secret windows. All the cover names have been booked In the air-conditioned recruiting offices, So will you accept my name – My only cover name – Mahmoud Darwish? As for my original name, It has been torn from my flesh By police whips and the pines of Carmel. O homeland repeated in massacres and songs, Show me the way to the source of death: Is it the dagger? Or the lie? *'Psalm 2': The greater part of the volume I Love You, I Love Not is taken up with seventeen psalms of which I have chosen eight for translation. They are of course psalms to Palestine.     Zajel / An-Najah National University