By Mahmoud Darwish

I am an Arab. You have stolen the orchards of my ancestors. And the land which I cultivated. Along with my children.

And you left nothing for us. Except for these rocks... So will the State take them. As it has been said?!Therefore!

Record on the top of the first page: I do not hate people Nor do I encroach But if I become hungry. The usurper's flesh will be my food Beware...Beware...

Of my hunger And my anger! Identity Card. In Jerusalem, and I mean within the ancient walls, I walk from one epoch to another without a memory to guide me. The prophets over there are sharing the history of the holy... ascending to heaven and returning less discouraged and melancholy, because love and peace are holy and are coming to town.

I was walking down a slope and thinking to myself: How do the narrators disagree over what light said about a stone? Is it from a dimly-lit stone that wars flare up?...In Jerusalem.

(By Mahmoud Darwish, Palestinian poet, who died on August 9, 2008.

Source: The Times of India, New Delhi

URL: http://www.newageislam.com/islam-and-the-west/the-sense-of-the-abyss/d/530