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#Mahmoud darwish
seem-give-pattern · 7 hours
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frail-and-hearty · 1 day
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I'm back here again, with nothing. I don't think I've moved far from where I'd left. But I'm still moved. I'm still tired, and I'm still not ready. And I'm still worried-sick, and I don't know where I'm going, let alone if I'll make it at all. I persist to the end that I will have found a way. Hopefully. That's right– I still do hope, even now.
I don't know how does one do it. I don't know how to stop spewing words because I don't know where else to put them, if at all you can call them words. To me, they're just reflections of a broken mind, of a tired heart, of a screaming gut, and an aching soul. How must I go on? Must I go on? Why must I do anything at all. Why does it have to be so hard? And why do I hear nobody else asking me this because then, I'd forget my troubles and make you my excuse to do what's hard for you, and to not do what's hard for me.
I'd love it if someone would pick me up right about now, and take me away to peace; and I'd have won over every one of my heart's desires, and I could finally. Stop. Just. Stop.
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When I was in prison, my mother visited me carrying fruits and coffee, and I will never forget her sadness when the jailer confiscated the coffee pot and poured it on the floor, and I will never forget her tears.
So I wrote her a personal confession in my cell on a pack of cigarettes in which I said:
I long for my mother’s bread, my mother’s coffee, and my mother’s touch,
and childhood grows in me one day on my mother’s chest,
and I love my life because if I die, I will be ashamed of my mother’s tears..
I thought this was a personal apology from a child to his mother, and I did not know that these words would be turned into a song sung by millions of children around the world.
- Mahmoud Darwish، the great Palestinian poet
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aridante · 5 months
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what resembles the grave but isn’t, anne boyer // i didn’t apologize to the well, mahmoud darwish (trans. fady joudah).
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"Here are your tortured poets. All from Mahmoud Darwish to Dr. Refat Alareer to Khaled Juma, these are tortured poets. Tortured by longing for a home they can never return to, tortured by the world they were born to for BEING BORN. Palestine, home to the tortured poets department." [@/folkoftheshelf on X. April 20th, 2024.]
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luthienne · 6 months
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Mahmoud Darwish, from Journal of an Ordinary Grief (tr. from the Arabic by Ibrahim Muhawi)
[Text ID: A place is not only a geographical area; it's also a state of mind. And trees are not just trees; they are the ribs of childhood.]
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mournfulroses · 5 months
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Mahmoud Darwish, from "In the Presence of Absence," originally published in 2006
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fromdarzaitoleeza · 7 months
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From Two poems by Mahmoud Darwish
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metamorphesque · 1 year
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unfolding into another spring
mahmood darwish, sylvia plath, v.e. schwab, ana mendieta
buy me a coffee
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ivynightshade · 22 days
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fatima aamer bilal, excerpt from moony moonless sky’s ‘we were put on this earth desperate, hungry and willing.’
[text id: in a sharp set of knives, i looked for a hand to hold. / i could not stop myself from needing to belong somewhere, even if that somewhere was a burial ground.]
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Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish
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soracities · 2 months
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Mahmoud Darwish, Memory for Forgetfulness: August, Beirut, 1982 (trans. Ibrahim Muhawi) [ID'd]
on context: "[set during] the 1982 Israeli invasion of Lebanon and the shelling of Beirut [...] Memory for Forgetfulness is an extended reflection on the invasion and its political and historical dimensions. It is also a journey into personal and collective memory. What is the meaning of exile? What is the role of the writer in time of war? What is the relationship of writing (memory) to history (forgetfulness)?" (source)
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deviika · 11 months
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Mahmoud Darwish // Fyodor Dostoevsky
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aridante · 2 months
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Mahmoud Darwish (trans. Mohammad Shaheen), Like a Hand Tattoo in an Ode by an Ancient Arab Poet
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intersectionalpraxis · 3 months
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sealskin · 7 months
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https://www.dropbox.com/sh/41pu2j0alrvmmqq/AADcNEo2K-fsdlacFfuXnKtva?dl=0
Above is the link to an audio file with Palestinian music, read-aloud poetry, storytelling, and excerpts from speeches on history and liberation. It was gathered by Radio Al Hara, an internet radio station broadcast from Ramallah, Bethlehem, and Amman in Jordan, founded during the pandemic as a way to connect during isolation. “Al Hara” means ​“the neighbourhood” in Arabic. From the river to the sea! 🇵🇸
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