The Wandering Guitar Player

The Wandering Guitar Player

Mahmoud Darwish Translated by: Denys Johnson-Davies/The Music of Human Flesh. , Open no doors, Do not break them down, Turn not the whale from the face of the moon.* (O my friend, O guitar, Take me To distant windows) A poet he was, But the poem Shriveled in the memory When he saw Jaffa On the deck of the ship.+ (O my friend, O guitar, Take me To honey-coloured eyes) A soldiers he was, But a piece of shrapnel Crushed his left knee So they gave him a present: Promotion And a wooden leg.  (O my friend, O guitar, Take me To the sleeping countries) The guitar player will come During the coming nights When people devote themselves to collecting soldiers' autographs. The guitar player will come From some place we do not see, When people are celebrating the birthday of witnesses. The guitar player will come, Naked or in underclothes. The guitar player will come And I almost see him, Almost smell the blood on his strings. I almost see him Walking through every street. I almost hear him Shouting like a storm: Take a good look:             That's a wooden leg. Listen:             That's the music of human flesh. *' . . . turn not the whale from the face of the moon': Popular fables have it that when the moon is in eclipse it will be eaten by a whale. +' . . . when he saw Jaffa on the deck of the ship': A reference to the Jews who were illegally smuggled into Palestine by sea after the Second World War. Zajel / An-Najah National University