Women and Children’s Tears
- Poem by the poet Ibrahim Touqan on the Nablus catastrophe:
The tears of women and children
wound the heart more than the tears of men.
A land once safe and secure,
now struck down by destiny’s earthquake.
One tremor after another has left it,
a barren ruin among the remains.
The earth quaked and then roared, casting
off its burdens with great weight.
To the right, homes collapsed,
spitting out their inhabitants; to the left,
the dust stirred, sending the world away
into darkness as the sun sank low.
And there lie the houses, either graves,
harboring their people, or empty cold.
The softest breeze, if it were to pass
over the remnants, would find them forlorn.
Do not ask about Nablus, the grieving city,
for there is no one left to answer your questions.
Have you seen the birds fly away in fear,
scattering from their safe shelter?
So too were the people driven from their homes,
fleeing into the mountain caves.
What once were lofty structures,
are now mere echoes in the winds of time.
So we are left beneath the heavens, stripped
of curtains and shades—unchallenged by the night.
Oh, what a heartbreak it is, as my heart grieves,
that festive nights are turned to mourning.
How the world smiles at us, dear friend, and weep for the day
when sorrow was a stranger.
A valley, like a river, glorious and calm,
once flourished with the beauty of nature.
The gentle whispers of the breeze, aside from the sorrow,
filled the landscape with a serene peace.
Birds of every color filled the sky,
surrounding us in a joyful chorus.
They sang on the branches, there,
connecting the dawn with twilight.
But can anyone believe that the king of love,
the hunter of words, the strongest soul in all realms,
does not know where and how,
the rains of passion wash over us?
Why does the muse, beloved Hind,
draw us into the realm of poetry…
and not Dadd? Can anyone comprehend that the high priest of love,
our guide, cannot interpret the signs?
You would be surprised, my lady, to learn,
that I do not care for accolades,
nor do I fear the passage of years.
And you will be even more astonished,
when you discover that even with gray hair, and despite experience,
I have never graduated from the university of love.
I am a student, my lady,
your student, and until the day I am called,
I will remain a lifelong learner,
a small bird learning in the school of dreams.
About Humanity
- Poem by Mahmoud Darwish on the injustice faced by the Palestinian people:
They placed chains upon his lips,
tied his hands to the stone of the dead,
and said: You are a killer!
They confiscated his food, clothes, and flags,
and threw him into the cells of the dead,
and said: You are a thief!
They expelled him from every port,
they took away his little beloved,
and then they said: You are a refugee!
O you with the red eyes and bleeding palms!
The night will pass,
neither the holding cell remains,
nor the chains anymore!
Nero has died, but Rome does not perish…
With her eyes, she fights!
And the grains of wheat may dry,
but the valley will soon be filled with ears of grain…