Palestinian Poetry Blogging
When The Martyrs Go To Sleep
When the martyrs go to sleep, I wake to protect them from professional
mourners.
I say: Have a good morning at home, a home of clouds and trees, a mirage of water
I congratulate them on their safety from injury, and the generosity of
the slaughterhouse.
I take time so they can take me from time. Are we all martyrs?
I whisper: Friends, at least save us one wall for our laundry lines, and
one night for songs.
I hang your names wherever you may wish, so go to sleep. Sleep on the trellis of
that sour vine.
I protect your dreams from your guards' knives, from the revolt
of the scriptures themselves against the prophets.
When you go to sleep tonight, be a song for those who have no songs.
I say: Have a good morning, a home carried on the back of a wild horse.
Then I whisper: Friends never be like us, a gallows in disguise.
From Fewer Roses (1986) by Mahmoud Darwish
Translated by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché
When The Martyrs Go To Sleep
When the martyrs go to sleep, I wake to protect them from professional
mourners.
I say: Have a good morning at home, a home of clouds and trees, a mirage of water
I congratulate them on their safety from injury, and the generosity of
the slaughterhouse.
I take time so they can take me from time. Are we all martyrs?
I whisper: Friends, at least save us one wall for our laundry lines, and
one night for songs.
I hang your names wherever you may wish, so go to sleep. Sleep on the trellis of
that sour vine.
I protect your dreams from your guards' knives, from the revolt
of the scriptures themselves against the prophets.
When you go to sleep tonight, be a song for those who have no songs.
I say: Have a good morning, a home carried on the back of a wild horse.
Then I whisper: Friends never be like us, a gallows in disguise.
From Fewer Roses (1986) by Mahmoud Darwish
Translated by Munir Akash and Carolyn Forché
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]
<< Home